LIBRARY 

UNtVEftSfWO* 

CAUFOHHA 


THE   MAKING   OF 
JIM   O'NEILL 

fl  Ston?  of  Seminary  Xife 


BY 


B.    HERDER 

17  SOUTH  BROADWAY,  ST.  LOUIS,  MO. 
CATHOLIC  TRUTH  SOCIETY  OF  IRELAND 

24   UPPER  O'CONNELL   STREET,    DUBLIN 
1910 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I  PAGB 

LEAVING  HOME  .... 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  JOURNEY 13 

CHAPTER  III 
THB  OLD  MBN  RETURN 24 

CHAPTER  IV 
THE  JUNIORS'  VICTORY 39 

CHAPTER  V 
CHRISTMAS  VACATION 63 

CHAPTER  VI 
DARKNESS  ON  THE  HORIZON        .         .         .         .        71 

CHAPTER  VII 
THB  LUTING  OF  THB  CLOUD       ....        83 

CHAPTER  VIII 
AFTER  THREE  YEARS 93 

CHAPTER  IX 
A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH 109 

CHAPTER  X      _. 
THE  ROYAL  ROAD  .  124 


FOREWORD 

No  single  character  in  the  following  pages 
is  an  actual  portrait,  but  the  whole  records 
the  impressions  of  one  who  has  seen,  from 
within,  the  life  of  the  Catholic  Seminary. 
The  author  has,  moreover,  had  experience 
of  misgivings  about  a  vocation ;  and  if  he 
did  not  attain  to  the  same  conclusion  as 
his  hero,  he  trusts  that  his  choice  was  not 
therefore  made  with  less  honesty  of  purpose. 
The  main  object  kept  in  view  has  been 
to  describe  the  Seminary  system  as  it  really 
exists,  and  to  dispel,  if  possible,  certain 
prevalent  and  absurd  prejudices  concerning 
it ;  and  the  work  is  dedicated  to  former 
comrades  by  one  who  will  gratefully  cherish 
the  memory  of  their  sturdy  manhood, 
childlike  piety,  and  faithful  friendship. 

M.  J.  F. 


2 


THE    MAKING    OF   JIM 
O'NEILL 


CHAPTER  I 

LEAVING    HOME 

THE   morning   of   September  3rd,   19 , 

dawned  fair  and  bright.  Early  spring 
when  the  buds  begin  to  appear  on  the 
branches,  lovely  May  when  the  flowers 
are  in  full  bloom,  and  hazy  midsummer 
when  the  hot  sun  bleaches  ripened  grain- 
crops  and  meadows  heavy  with  over-ripeness 
have  their  beauties ;  but  there  is  a  beauty 
peculiar  to  September  which  surpasses 
them  all.  It  comes  upon  us  at  a  time 
when  we  have  almost  forgotten  that  such 
things  as  leafless  trees  and  snow-clad  hills 
ever  really  existed.  It  seems  not  merely 
a  continuation  of  summer,  but  almost  an 
assurance  that  summer  will  never  cease. 

Bright,  smiling,  happy,  the  old  farm- 
house at  Glenroe  reflected  that  September 
morning's  sun.  Within  doors  at  O'Neill's 
there  wa&  unusual  stir  and  clatter  that 


4  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

morning.  "  Sure  if  you  go  an'  cut  the 
rashers  now,  Ellie,  I'll  finish  packing  Jim's 
trunk.  An'  'tis  you  that  made  the  darlin' 
hand  o'  the  markin',  Ellie.  There  won't 
be  wan  there  that'll  have  his  collars  marked 
as  nate  as  that  '  JAMES  O'NEILL  '  in  grand 
printin'  entirely,  'tirely." 

"  All  right,  mother,"  said  Ellie,  a  de- 
cidedly handsome  girl  of  eighteen  summers, 
the  eldest  member  of  the  family  of  five ; 
"  but  isn't  it  time  to  call  Jim  now  ?  Won't 
he  be  going  away  to  college  in  a  couple  of 
hours?" 

"  Sure  he  will,  the  craytur,"  said  her 
mother,  "  but  lave  him  there  another 
blast.  Isn't  it  soon  enough  he'll  have 
masters  over  him  that'll  make  him  get 
up  at  the  tip  o'  the  bell.  And  he  do  be  so 
cross  sometimes,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neill  reluct- 
antly, "  an'  I  wouldn't  like  to  vex  him  the 
lasht  mornin',  an'  he  goin'  away  from 
us." 

"  Faith,  I'm  thinkin'  they'll  knock  that 
same  crossness  and  peevishness  out  o'  him 
before  long,"  said  old  Ned  O'Neill,  the 
paterfamilias,  who  was  enjoying  his  morn- 
ing "  whiff  o'  tobaccy "  at  the  corner. 
"  But  he's  a  rale  good  fella,  Jim  is — 
although  I  wouldn't  say  that  to  his  face. 
An'  maybe  'tis  better  have  him  a  bit  uppish 
that  way  than  too  much  of  an  aisy-going 
noody-nawdy." 


LEAVING   HOME  5 

"  Oh  !  the  craytur,  sure  he's  as  gentle  as 
a  lamb — if  you  kem  around  him  properly." 

"  Do  you  remember  Frank  M'Grath  long 
ago,  Maggie,  that's  poor  Father  M'Grath  o' 
Knocktoper,  God  resht  his  soul  ?  " 

"  Ah,  don't  I  ?  A  fine,  dacent  man — an 
Irishman  an'  a  saint — may  the  heavens  be 
his  bed  !  " 

"  Aye,  but  don't  you  remember  when  he 
was  a  young  lad  like  Jim  an'  we  all  goin' 
barefoot  to  the  ould  school  in  Kildoran. 
Sure  you  couldn't  look  at  the  side  o'  the 
road  he  was  at  that  time,  if  he  was  in  a 
humour,  but  he'd  ate  you." 

"  An'  I  mind  him  well  an'  he  a  big  gor- 
soon  goin'  learnin'  classics  wid  a  big  load 
o'  books  undher  his  arm,  an'  sure  the  divil 
used  to  be  puttin'  it  into  our  heads  not  to 
lave  him  alone  whin  he'd  be  passin'  home 
every  evenin',  only  to  be  at  him  an'  throwin' 
kisses  at  him  an'  tormentin'  him.  An'  the 
proud  way  he  used  to  shake  his  shoulders 
— for  all  the  world  like  our  Jim — an'  walk 
off  an'  lave  us  there." 

"  They  were  airy  lads,  some  of  them, 
that  was  studyin'  for  the  Church  in  my 
tune,"  said  old  Ned,  "  but  the  good  dhrop 
was  in  'em,  an'  the  hand  o'  God  did  the 
resht,  an'  they  turned  out  fine  min  afther, 
the  mosht  of  them.  Sure  poor  Jack  Molloy 
that  was  middlin'  great  wid  yourself  wan 
time,  Maggie " 


THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O  NEILL 

"  Oh,  glory  be  to  God  !  do  you  hear  that 
man  the  way  he  talks  about " 

"  Sure  didn't  he  go  down  the  worsht 
lanes  an'  alleys  in  Chicago  the  time  the 
fayver  was  there  an'  give  the  Lasht  Sacra- 
ments to  every  wan  that  wanted  thim  until 
the  poor  man  took  it  himself  an'  died 
nearly  suddenly." 

"  What  time  is  it,  mother  ?  "  roared  a 
lusty  young  voice  from  the  adjoining  bed- 
room. 

"  Coin'  on  to  seven  or  that  way,  Jim ; 
but  what  hurry  need  you  be  in  gettin'  up. 
Isn't  it  your  lasht  mornin'  ?  " 

"  Is  my  trunk  packed  ?  " 

"  Very  nearly,  alannah ;  an'  sure  'twould 
be  ready  long  'go  only  the  markin'  ink 
didn't  come  till  this  mornin'." 

"  I  think  I'll  get  up,  mother." 

"  Very  well,  Jim.  But  plaze  your- 
self." 

Jim  pleased  himself,  and  got  up.  He 
was  a  good,  strong  lad  for  his  age — "  goin' 
on  seventeen,"  as  his  mother  would  tell 
you.  He  wasn't  a  remarkably  clever  boy, 
but  he  had  worked  fairly  hard,  and  was 
thus  ready  "  to  stand  for  the  Rhetoric 
class  "  in  Ballyhynes.  The  other  points  of 
his  character  our  story  may  unfold. 

"  Is  my  razor  in  ?  "  said  Jim,  with  evi- 
dent emphasis  on  the  word  razor.  Not 
every  boy  "  goin'  on  seventeen "  is  the 


LEAVING   HOME  7 

proud  possessor  of  a  razor,  but  beard  grew 
early,  and  grew  strong,  in  the  O'Neill 
family. 

"  Is  Jim's  razor  in,  Ellie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  'tis  in  the  bottom  of  the 
trunk." 

"  Wisha,  look,  alannah,  don't  be  ran- 
sacking the  trunk  now  ;  sure  we'd  never  be 
able  to  put  them  all  into  it  again.  I  don't 
know  how  all  the  things  fitted  in  it  at  all, 
at  all.  Only  for  Ellie  bein'  so  handy " 

"  Will  I  wet  the  tea  now,  mother  ?  " 

"  Wisha,  as  'tis  his  lasht  mornin'  yourself 
and  Jim  might  go  for  a  little  walk  around 
the  fields." 

"  Ah  !  don't  mind  the  trunk,  Jim,"  said 
Ellie,  as  she  slipped  her  arm  around  her 
brother's  waist ;  "  don't  I  tell  you  every- 
thing is  in  it.  That's  the  boy.  Come  on 
now,  and  we'll  walk  down  to  the  well  and 
back." 

"  Wisha,  Ned,  after  our  lifetime  together 
wouldn't  it  be  a  great  blessin'  entirely  if 
we  lived  to  see  a  son  of  ours  a  priest,  an' 
to  get  his  holy  blessin'  afther  he  bein' 
ordained,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neill  to  her  husband 
after  "  the  childre  "  had  gone  out  to  the 
fields. 

"  'T would  be  a  happy  day  for  us  all, 
Maggie.  But  take  an  ould  man's  advice, 
who  has  seen  a  dale  o'  life  out  o'  doors  at 
fairs  an'  places  where  women  never  go, 


8  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

don't  be  spoilin'  that  young  lad  with  too 
much  palavers." 

"  Ned,  isn't  my  heart  set  in  him  and 
that  little  girl." 

"  But  sure  I'm  only  for  his  good,  an' 
yours.  Aint  I  as  fond  a  parent  of  his 
childre  as  there's  in  Ireland  ?  " 

"  Wisha  you  are,  Ned." 

There  is  a  lot  to  be  said  for  "  love's 
young  dream  "  ;  but  we  sometimes  wonder 
is  not  the  love  that  has  stood  the  test  of 
years,  sorrows,  troubles,  far  sweeter  still  ? 

Having  now  paid  our  due  respects  to 
age  let  us  accompany  Jim  and  Ellie  down 
the  fields.  They  were  being  wistfully 
watched  by  three  little  boys,  their  young 
brothers,  each  of  whom  was  a  picture  of 
healthful,  perhaps  rather  ragged,  humanity. 
Conn  was  just  eleven,  Willie  and  Patsey 
both  under  seven.  They  were  all  interested 
in  the  great  family  event. 

"  And  you'll  write  to  me  surely  every 
week,  Jim,"  Ellie  was  saying ;  "  and  tell 
me  every  whole  thing  about  yourself,  and 
the  way  they  begin  teaching  you  how  to 
say  Mass.  Tell  me  all  about  the  other 
boys,  the  new  boys  like  yourself.  I'm  sure 
some  of  them  will  be  very  funny.  I  saw 
some  of  them  at  the  Junction  one  day,  and 
they  seemed  to  be  shy  and  innocent." 

"  All  right,  Ellie,  and  don't  you  forget 
to  tell  me  all  the  nice  news  around  the 


LEAVING   HOME  9 

place,  and  be  sure  to  tell  me  everything 
the  droll  servant-boy  we  had  says  in  the 
next  letter  he  writes  from  America." 

"  Oh  !  Jim,  you  shouldn't  be  laughing 
always  at  people  that  are — peculiar." 

"  Isn't  it  then-  own  fault  ?  " 

'*  But  surely,  Jim,  a  priest  shouldn't  say 
that." 

"  I'm  not  a  priest." 

"  But  you're  going  to  be  one,  please  God. 
And  listen,  Jim,  you  know  I'm  older  than 
you,  so  you  won't  mind  me  saying  it :  don't 
be  too  cross  or  too  proud  with  the  other 
boys ;  they  wouldn't  like  it.  I  know  you're 
not  that  way,  Jim,"  said  Ellie,  not  very 
well  knowing  how  to  get  out  of  the  trap 
she  felt  herself  falling  into,  "  but,  you  know, 
— some  boys  are." 

"  Oh  !  never  fear,  Ellie,  I'll  be  well  able 
to  take  care  of  myself."  But  young  boys, 
as  a  rule,  are  not  inclined  to  take  their 
sisters'  advice. 

A  good  appetite,  and  a  good  breakfast, 
blessed  Jim  O'Neill  on  the  morning  of  his 
departure  for  the  diocesan  college  at  Bally- 
hynes.  "  Stick  to  your  books,  James,  an' 
sthudy  hard,  but  don't  be  goin'  killin'  your- 
self— an'  I  don't  believe  you  will  nayther, — 
after  prize-books  an'  things.  Often  I  heard 
old  Father  Moran  above,  a  man  that  'ud 
touch  the  heart  of  a  stone  wid  his  praychin* 
sayin'  that  he  never  won  a  prize  while  he 


10  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

was  at  college,  an'  that  he  wasn't  sorry  for 
that  same.  An'  whatever  rules  the  Dane — 
or  whoever  'tis — makes,  keep  'em,  in  the 
name  o'  God,  an'  don't  be  goin'  playactin' 
about  the  college,  like  a  dale  o'  fellas  I 
knew  in  my  time.  An',  lishen  to  me  now, 
Jim,  an'  'tis  your  father  that's  tellin'  it  to 
you — don't  be  too  proud  an'  too  aysily 
vexed,  because  they  wouldn't  take  it  from 
you  there,  Jim ;  'tisn't  Ellie  an'  your  mother 
you'd  be  dailin'  wid." 

"  An'  anything  at  all  that's  troublin' 
you  or  anything  in  the  world  you  want, 
write  home  immayjetly  about  it,  Jim ; 
an' — an' — mind  your  health,"  said  Mrs. 
O'Neill. 

It  is  amazing  how  quickly  time  flies  on 
occasions  like  this.  The  servant-boy — a 
new  one — knocked  at  the  door,  and  an- 
nounced that  there  wasn't  a  dale  o'  time 
to  spare  for  the  train,  an'  was  the  thrunk 
ready  :  "  I'll  take  it  down  in  th'  ass's  car, 
an'  I  suppose  the  master  himself '11  drive 
James  to  Kildoran." 

"  Oh  !  one  minute,  Paddy  !  "  exclaimed 
Ellie,  "  I  very  nearly  forgot  putting  in 
the  notepaper  and  envelopes." 

At  last  the  trunk  was  locked,  firmly  tied 
and  deposited  on  "  th'  ass's  car,"  and  the 
pony  and  trap  was  at  the  door  waiting. 
Into  it  had  clambered  two  of  the  aforesaid 
youngsters,  while  the  eldest  of  them,  Conn, 


LEAVING   HOME  11 

was  critically  examining  a  very  elaborate 
arrangement  of  harness  and  twine. 

But  all  at  once  the  three  raised  a  common 
shout,  after  which  they  were  scampering 
down  to  the  gate,  all  trying  to  be  there 
first  to  open  it  for  a  new  arrival  they  had 
just  espied.  It  was  a  young  girl  with  bright 
blue  eyes  and  yellowish  hair  which  was  in 
a  very  disorderly  state,  for  she  was  running 
so  hard  that  she  arrived  at  the  hall  door 
out  of  breath. 

She  made  straight  for  Jim,  and  caught 
him  by  the  hand,  giving  him  a  hearty 
shake,  saying,  "  I  was  afraid  I  was  late  to 
see  you  off  and  say  '  good-bye.'  Why  did 
you  not  send  me  word  you  were  starting 
so  early  ?  I  just  got  word  of  it  in  the 
village." 

"  Oh,"  jaid  Jim,  "  I  did  not  think  you 
could  bother  much  about  me  now  !  " 

"  Of  course  I  do — we  all  will  bother  fifty 
times  as  much  about  you,  and  we'll  be 
saying  prayers  that  you  may  get  Rhetoric, 
so  as  we'll  have  you  saying  Mass  for  us 
all  the  quicker.  But  I  was  saying  it  is  the 
quare  sort  of  priest  ye'll  be  if  you  don't 
treat  your  best  friends  decently." 

"  God  help  us,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neill.  "  Is 
it  not  a  shame  for  you,  Kathleen  ?  You 
do  make  the  poor  boy  terrible  wild  wi'  your 
talk.  Whatever  will  they  do  with  him  at 
the  college  I  don't  know  at  all,  at  all." 


12 


"  Oh  !  Mrs.  O'Neill,  the  wild  ones  always 
make  the  best  priests.  But  I  won't  keep 
him  waiting  :  perhaps  he  might  change  his 
mind,  and  you  would  all  be  blaming  me. 
Good-bye,  Jim,  good-bye,  and  pleasant 
journey." 

"  Good-bye,  alannah,"  said  the  poor 
mother  in  her  turn,  "  may  God  bless  you 
an'  guide  you  an'  His  holy  Mother  guard 
you  night,  noon,  and  morn,  an'  give  wan 
kiss  to  your  mother,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neill, 
as  the  salt  tears  glistened  in  her  eyes. 

"  Good-bye,  mother,  an' — an'  I'll  write 
often." 

"  God  bless  you  !  " 

"  Good-bye,  Ellie." 

"Good-bye,  Jim.    Don't  forget." 

"  Never  fear.  And  good-bye,  Kathleen, 
and  tell  your  uncle,  the  parish  priest,  that 
I  hope  he  will  pray  for  me." 

A  whip  cracked,  the  wheels  rattled  on 
the  pavement  of  the  old  farmyard  and  out 
the  boreen,  and  Jim  O'Neill  had  left  the 
home  of  his  fathers,  and  had  opened  a  new 
chapter  in  his  hitherto  uneventful  history. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   JOURNEY 

"  WILL  you  give  this  young  lad  a  ticket 
an'  a  label  for  Ballyhynes,  if  you  plaze, 
sir,"  said  Ned  O'Neill  to  the  stationmaster 
at  Kildoran. 

"  Right,  sir  ;  sixpence  change." 

"  Is  it  long  till  the  thrain  be  in,  sir  ?  " 

"  Due  in  twenty  minutes." 

"  Take  that  ticket,  Jim  ;  an'  put  it  into 
your  vest  pocket  so  as  not  to  lose  it. 
That's  it ;  stick  it  on  well ;  thim  labels 
often  comes  off.  Now,  look  here  to  me, 
Jim  ;  you're  gettin'  a  fine  chance  now,  an' 
many  a  good  boy  'ud  be  glad  of  it.  Con- 
duct yourself  well  now  an'  be  worthy  of  it. 
You  know  well  that  it  isn't  aisy  for  me  to  let 
you  go,  havin'  three  other  gorsoons  besides 
yourself.  If  'twas  anything  else  in  the  world 
you'd  never  sthir  a  peg  outside  the  yard  ; 
but  whin  you  axed  to  be  sent  to  be  made  a 
priest,  an'  his  reverence  below  blessed 
your  intention,  I  wasn't  the  man  to  sthand 
between  you  an'  th'  altar  o'  God.  Mind 
the  company  you  keep  now — not  but  I'm 
sure  they'll  all  be  dacent  young  lads,  only 
'tisn't  every  two  or  three  suits  aich  other, 

13 


14  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

and  maybe  some  o'  thim  'ud  be  going  in 
too  much  for  tricks  that  the  Dane  wouldn't 
like — an'  you'd  betther  shun  that  class,  if 
there's  any  o'  thim  there." 

"  Oh !  never  fear,  father.  Sure  what 
did  you  ever  see  me  doing  ?  I  don't  smoke, 
nor  anything." 

"I  know,  I  know ;  but  a  man  beginnin' 
life  could  never  be  too  careful — nor  endin' 
it  ayther,  for  that  matther.  An'  let  me 
say  it  to  you  agen  :  Don't  be  too  proud  an' 
consayted  in  your  manner." 

"Sure,   father " 

"  Now,  now,  whin  you're  as  long  in  the 
world  as  me  you'll  be  of  my  way  of  thinkin'." 

Thus  the  time  passed  until  the  train 
steamed  into  the  station,  and  Jim  O'Neill 
said  good-bye  to  his  father  and  took  his 
seat  in  a  third-class  carriage.  The  engine 
whistle  blew,  the  old  man  on  the  platform 
waved  a  handkerchief ;  puff,  puff,  a  few 
shunts,  and  the  train  had  left  Kildoran 
on  its  upward  journey.  Brightly  the  sun 
shone  down  on  hill  and  dale  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  every  inch  of  which  Jim 
knew  so  well.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life  a  feeling  of  intense  loneliness  crept  on 
him.  He  could  not  explain  it,  for  home- 
sickness to  him  was  hitherto  an  unknown 
quantity.  All  the  old  familiar  landmarks 
— the  castle,  the  river,  the  old  mill — 
went  by ;  the  sight  of  each  intensified  his 


THE   JOURNEY  15 

pain.  He  could  have  cried,  but  was  he 
not  a  man — and  shaving  ? — and  there  were 
other  passengers  in  the  compartment.  Then 
his  thoughts  turned  to  Ballyhynes.  What 
was  college  like  at  all  ?  What  sort  of  a  life 
would  he  have  there  ?  Would  he  have  to 
work  hard,  and  do  lots  of  Latin  exercises 
and  sums  ?  Would  there  be  many  fellows 
that  he  could  order  about  as  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  doing  to  Ellie  and  the  boys  ? 
Would  he  get  the  great  "  Rhetoric  class  " 
that  he  was  expected  to,  and  that  the  parish 
priest  had  predicted  for  him  ? 

The  train  was  slackening  speed.  Pre- 
sently it  stopped  as  a  little  station  came 
in  sight.  "  Newtown,"  sang  out  the  porter, 
and  Jim  gazed  at  the  people  on  the  plat- 
form as  if  he  were  to  read  the  answers  to 
his  mind's  questions  in  their  faces. 
f,  "  Get  in  here,  Joe ;  this  carriage  here," 
said  a  boy  of  about  twenty-two  to  a  young 
lad  apparently  about  sixteen.  "  Be  a  good 
boy  now,  and  be  sure  to  write  often.  Write 
immediately  after  the  examination  an' 
tell  us  what  class  you  got.  An'  if  you 

don't  get  Rhetoric  itself "     The  whistle 

went.  "  Good-bye,  Mick,  again."  "  Good- 
bye, Joe,  and  good  luck."  And  the  train 
puft'ed  and  shunted  again,  and  steamed 
out  of  another  little  country  station,  and 
another  ecclesiastical  aspirant  had  begun 
the  journey  of  life. 


16  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

Jim  never  quite  realized  his  position  till 
he  saw  sitting  opposite  him  in  the  railway 
carriage  another  boy  whose  destiny  was 
quite  clearly  identical  with  his  own.  He 
seemed  now  to  understand  that  he  was 
really  entering  on  a  newer  and  a  larger 
existence  than  he  had  yet  known.  He  had 
been  really  anxious  to  go  to  the  college, 
and  as  the  time  came  nearer  he  had  been 
counting  the  weeks  and  the  days  for  his 
departure  as  an  ecclesiastical  student.  He 
knew  that  somehow  it  would  make  a  man 
of  him,  a  greater  man  than  he  could  be  as 
a  farmer,  or  a  schoolmaster,  or  a  civil  service 
clerk  or  postman.  He  knew  in  a  vague  sort 
of  way  that  to  be  a  good  student — and  he 
meant  to  be  a  good  one — would  mean 
giving  up  certain  things  that  he  liked, 
giving  up  something  of  his  own  way,  some- 
thing of  ease  and  of  freedom ;  and  would 
also  involve  (what  he  did  not  much  care 
about)  hard  application  to  lessons  and  to 
books.  But  it  was  only  when  he  found 
himself  wondering  as  to  what  the  feelings  of 
the  newcomer  opposite  him  were  like  that  he 
had  some  pity  for  his  own  state  of  isolation. 

As  Jim  was  staring  rather  dejectedly  at 
his  travelling  companion  he  seemed  to 
become  conscious  that  he  too  was  being 
stared  at  quite  as  earnestly,  and  he  thought 
he  might  as  well  break  the  ice.  Rather 
suddenly  he  asked : 


THE   JOURNEY  17 

"  Are  you  going  to  college,  too  ?  " 

"Yes.    Are  you?" 

"  I  am.  What  college  are  you  going 
to?" 

"  Ballyhynes." 

"  That's  where  I'm  going.  What  class 
are  you  expecting  ?  " 

"  Rhetoric.     What  are  you  ?  " 

"  Rhetoric.  Where  did  you  learn 
classics  ?  " 

"  At  college  in  Belleview." 

'  Where  is  that  ?  " 

"  Near  Dublin.  Where  were  you  at 
school  ?  " 

"  At  the  classical  school  at  Kildoran. 
Do  you  know  any  fellows  in  Ballyhynes  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so.     Do  you  ?  " 

"  No.  I  suppose  'tis  a  hard  place  for  a 
stranger." 

"  You  may  be  sure  it  is  ;  but  I  believe  a 
fellow  gets  far  more  liberty — left  to  himself 
more  like — in  an  ecclesiastical  college  than 
in  a  lay  one.  Do  you  know  Greek  ?  " 

"  A  very  little.    Do  you  ?  " 

"  Just  about  the  same.  They'll  stick  us 
in  Greek." 

"  Let  'em." 

"  Can  you  play  football  ?  "  said  the  new 
arrival. 

"  I  can,  of  course — perhaps  quite  as  well 
as  you,"  said  Jim,  rather  tartly. 

"  I  have  no  doubt.    What  do  you  play  ?  " 

3 


18  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

"  Football." 

"  What  sort  of  football  ?  " 

"Football.  Sure  if  'tisn't  football,  'tis 
hurling  or  handball ;  and  if  'tis  that,  'tisn't 
football  at  all,  and  what  more  is  about  it. 
What  sort  do  you  play  ?  " 

"  Soccer." 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"  Football." 

It  evidently  wasn't  going  to  be  a  one- 
sided affair  by  any  means. 

"  My  name  is  Jim  O'Neill." 

"  Mine  is  Joe  O'Donnell." 

"  We'll  be  apt  to  be  in  the  same  class." 

"  Probably,  if  you're  as  weak  at  Greek 
as  I  am — the  class  under  Rhetoric." 

"  Let  it.  We'll  know  each  other  when 
we  go  up." 

Joe  O'DonneU  thought  he  saw  a  joke, 
but  Jim  didn't  seem  to  be  joking. 

"  Well,  we  ought,  if  looking  at  each  other 
is  any  good." 

"  What  sort  of  a  fellow  are  you  to  be 
laughing  like  that  at  nothing  ?  I'll  put 
you  from  laughing — quick,  too." 

"  You'd  better  not  try  on  that  game  at 
Ballyhynes." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  it  wouldn't  work — that's  all." 

There  was  silence  for  quite  a  while. 

"  Will  you  smoke  a  cigarette  ? "  said 
Joe  O'DonneU,  handing  Jim  a  package  of 


THE   JOURNEY  Id 

"  fags."  "  It  will  be  almost  our  last  one 
for  some  time." 

"  Me— smoke  !  " 

"  Yes,  you — smoke  !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  smoke  ;  I  never  do,  and  I 
don't  think  it  right  for  a  student  to  smoke 
either." 

"  A  matter  of  opinion,  I  suppose." 

•'  What  ?  " 

"  If  you  don't  smoke,  you  needn't ; 
and  isn't  that  the  whole  thing  settled  ?  " 

Silence  reigned  again,  and  the  staring 
part  of  the  performance  was  renewed  with 
double  vigour,  until  an  important  looking 
station  came  in  sight.  The  train  pulled 
up  at  the  platform  and  a  porter  shouted, 
"  Junction." 

"  We  must  change  here." 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"  Get  out  and  go  into  another  train." 

"  Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  All  right.     Stop  there  if  you  like." 

But  Jim  didn't  "  like,"  and  they  found 
themselves  sitting  opposite  each  other 
again,  in  the  other  train,  on  the  straight 
run  for  Bally hynes.  At  last  "  Ballyhynes  " 
was  sung  out,  and  our  friends  alighted  on 
the  platform.  The  usual  number  of  the 
"  travelling  public  "  got  off  also,  but  very 
quickly  cleared  off  about  their  business, 
and  two  dozen  young  students,  with  two 
dozen  trunks — all  apparently  going  no- 


20  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

where  in  particular — ornamented  the  plat- 
form. 

"  Is  all  these  trunks  here  going  to  the 
college  ?  "  asked  a  college  servant,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  of  very  high  authority. 

"  Yes,  sir,  this  one  is  going  anyhow," 
said  a  fair-haired  boy,  more  "  cheeky " 
than  the  rest,  pointing  to  a  trunk  with 
the  name  of  "Murphy"  labelled  on  it. 

"  And  this — and  this,"  sang  out  in  chorus 
the  others. 

"  All  right.  They'll  be  up  immajetly. 
I  suppose  ye  know  the  way  to  the  college. 
There  'tis — the  big  building  over  there. 
Walk  down  straight  an'  ye  can't  miss  it. 
But  ye'd  betther  sthump  up  the  juty  on 
these  trunks  before  ye  go.  An'  I  suppose 
some  o'  'em'll  be  comin'  back  before  very 
long."  Evidently  he  was  a  man  who  had 
seen  a  good  deal  of  life. 

Twenty-four  candidates  for  admission 
presented  themselves  at  the  college  in  due 
time ;  not  a  soul  had  come  yet  except  them- 
selves. They  were  told  to  walk  round  the 
grounds  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  go  in 
turn  to  the  President's  room  and  present 
their  references,  and  all  this  would  be  done 
before  the  "  old  men "  returned.  Jim 
and  Joe  found  themselves  together  again. 
Each  knew  nobody  else,  and  that  was  a 
strong  link  between  them  amongst  a  crowd 
of  strangers. 


THE   JOURNEY  21 

"  Tis  a  grand  place  entirely,"  exclaimed 
Jim  ;  "  and  look  at  the  fine  place  for  playing 
ball !  " 

"  It  isn't  too  bad  by  any  means — what 
we  can  see  of  it  yet,"  said  Joe. 

"  Will  we  be  out  here  about  the  grounds 
often  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  it's  the  same  that  way  as  a  lay 
college — about  three  hours  every  day,  I 
suppose." 

"  That's  great  entirely.  Are  all  of  them 
new  men  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  indeed,  you  can  be  sure  they  are." 

"  How  will  we  find  out  the  President's 
room  ?  " 

"  If  you  take  a  tip  from  me  you'll  keep 
with  the  crowd  while  you're  here,  and  you 
won't  be  ever  very  much  astray." 

"  I'll  go  up  and  look  for  it." 

"  'Tis  too  soon  yet." 

"  I  don't  care." 

"  All  right." 

Up  the  stairs,  and  through  the  corridors 
rambled  Jim,  gazing  in  amazement  at 
almost  everything  he  saw,  and  then  re- 
suming his  quest  of  some  one  who  would 
show  him  the  President's  room,  until  he 
ran  right  into  the  hands  of  the  Dean. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  you  booby  ?  " 
said  Father  M'Carthy,  the  Dean,  a  low- 
sized  ecclesiastic,  who  seemed  inclined  to  be 
fussy  without  much  necessity. 


22  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM   o'NEILI. 

"  To  college,  sir." 

"  Well,  well,  well ;  the  stupidity  of  some 
boys  up  fresh  from  the  country  is  amazing  ! 
Wern't  you  told  to  wait  half  an  hour  ? 
Why  didn't  you  remain  with  the  others  ? 
Go  down  now  and  stay  with  them  until 
you're  called.  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  James  O'Neill." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  O'Neill,  you  must  come 
to  my  room  some  night  for  a  lesson  in 
manners  and  common  sense.  I  won't 
trouble  you  just  now." 

Somewhat  crest-fallen,  but  more  pig- 
headed than  ever,  Jim  took  his  place  again 
with  his  fellow -new -men.  In  due  time  a 
servant  announced  that  the  President  was 
now  ready  to  see  the  new  men.  "  Follow 
me,"  said  he,  as  he  led  them  upstairs  to 
the  President's  room.  He  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  in  response  to  a  cheery  "  Come 
in,"  turned  the  handle,  saying,  "Go  in 
wan  by  wan  now,"  and  left  them. 

The  first  man  that  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  President  was  Jim.  He  had 
been  conjuring  up  pictures  of  what  he 
thought  the  President  would  be  like.  Per- 
haps he  might  be  worse  than  the  Dean — at 
least  a  hard,  stern,  abusing  sort  of  character. 
What,  then,  was  his  agreeable  surprise  to  be 
received  by  a  grey-headed,  kindly  old  man, 
who  impressed  him  at  once,  slight  as  was 
his  acquaintance  with  human  character,  as 


THE   JOURNEY  28 

a  man  possessed  of  many  of  the  qualities 
of  the  saint  and  the  scholar. 

"  Close  the  door,  my  boy,  please,"  said 
Father  Nolan,  hi  a  kindly,  sympathetic 
tone.  "  That's  right ;  sit  down  now  and 
give  me  your  references.  Thank  you ! 
'  James  O'Neill,  a  parishioner  of  mine,  who 
seeks  admission  to  St.  Brigid's  College, 
Ballyhynes,  comes  from  one  of  the  oldest 
and  most  respected  families  in  this  part  of 
the  country.  He  is  the  son  of  a  decent  father 
and  mother,  and  is  himself  a  well-conducted 
boy  in  every  respect.  He  was  educated  at 
the  National  School,  and  afterwards  at  the 
Classical  School,  at  Kildoran,  and  the  masters 
of  both  schools  testify  to  his  good  character. 
I  can  recommend  him  as  a  most  suitable 
candidate  for  the  priesthood.  Signed,  Pat- 
rick Moron,  P.P.,  of  the  United  Parishes 
of  Kildoran  and  Glenroe.'  Capital,  my 
boy.  And  this  is  from  the  master  of  the 
school,"  said  Father  Nolan,  as  he  glanced 
through  the  rather  lengthy  manuscript 
signed  '  Terence  Flanagan,  Head  Master, 
Kildoran  Classical,  Mathematical  and  Gene- 
ral Education  Academy.'  "Yes,  that's  all 
right  too.  Give  me  you  baptismal  certifi- 
cate. Thank  you.  What  class  will  you 
stand  for  ?  Rhetoric — good.  Dinner  at 
three  o'clock ;  go  out  now  and  get  a  good 
appetite  for  it.  The  written  portion  of 
the  examination  will  begin  at  six.  Good- 


24  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

bye,  now — James,  isn't  it  ? — and  I  wish 
you  every  success.  Send  in  the  next  man, 
please." 

And  so  Father  Nolan  went  through  the 
list  until,  sis  the  bell  rang  for  dinner,  the 
last  candidate  emerged  from  his  room. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   OLD   MEN   RETURN 

So  at  last  our  hero  was  fairly  launched  on 
college  life.  He  had  hardly  had  time  to 
take  it  in,  or  to  ask  himself  whether  it  wras 
what  he  had  expected.  Yet  he  felt  happy, 
and  almost  at  home.  The  sense  of  loneli- 
ness was  with  him,  and  a  sort  of  undefined 
wonder,  almost  amounting  to  apprehension, 
as  to  what  the  future  would  be  like.  But, 
after  all,  what  if  he  had  trials  or  disap- 
pointments in  front  of  him  ?  The  great 
thing  was  it  had  come  at  last ;  it  was  very 
strange  but  it  was  real.  He  was  now  an 
ecclesiastical  student,  and  one  day  he 
would  be  a  holy  priest  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  Come  what  might,  that  was 
surely  a  thing  worth  living  for  anyhow  ! 

His  first  experience  was  already  some- 
thing of  a  disappointment,  but  not  a  very 
disconcerting  one,  because  he  was  pre- 


THE   OLD   MEN   RETURN  25 

pared  to  be  plucked  for  Rhetoric  on  account 
of  his  weakness  in  the  Greek.  And  so  it 
was.  The  very  next  morning  he  met 
O'Donnell,  and  each  confided  to  the  other 
that  they  had  got  Senior  Humanity. 
O'Donnell  added  somewhat  jauntily  :  "  But 
cheer  up,  old  man.  It  only  means  a  year 
anyhow,  and  eight  years  time  will  be  soon 
enough  for  the  '  tall  deckers.'  We'll  never 
have  a  nicer  time  than  while  we're  students, 
with  all  the  grand  long  vacations  and  a 
good  share  of  fun  here  too.  However,  the 
people  at  home  won't  like  it  for  either  of  us, 
I'm  sure." 

But  in  any  case  they  had  not  much  time 
for  finding  fault  with  their  luck ;  because 
everything  now  was  less  important  than  the 
approaching  event,  on  the  third  day  after 
their  arrival — the  return  of  the  old  men. 
And  this  was  now  the  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. 

"  I  suppose  you  know,  O'Neill,  that  they 
are  coming  back  to-morrow." 

"  So  I  heard." 

"  We'll  have  to  keep  very  quiet  for  a 
while  then." 

"  We  will,  if  we  like,"  said  Jim  with 
great  calmness. 

"  Oh  !  all  right ;  you'll  see.  But  look 
here,  O'Neill,  why  don't  you  let  that  small 
kid  alone  ?  He  is  a  nice  little  fellow,  I 
think ;  but  in  any  case  you  shouldn't  be 


26 

nearly  killing  him,  Delaney  and  yourself. 
And  that  reminds  me  that  Delaney  looks 
as  if  he  were  going  to  stick  on  us  for  the 
year  ;  he  isn't  a  bad  fellow,  I  think,  in  a  lot 
of  ways.  I  was  sure  ye  had  hurt  young 
Murphy  last  night  in  the  dormitory." 

"  He's  a  young  idiot,  and  he  should  do 
what  we  tell  him." 

"  Why  should  he  ?  The  sooner  you 
drop  that  game  the  better." 

"  Is  it  for  you  I'll  drop  it  ?  If  you  don't 
want  a  row  immediately  don't  try  it  on 
with  me  anyhow,"  said  O'Neill,  bristling 
up  about  nothing. 

Just  at  this  critical  moment  Delaney 
came  running  towards  the  two.  The 
chatting  that  had  taken  place  in  the  dor- 
mitory on  the  first  evening  of  their  arrival 
had  disclosed  the  fact  that  he  was  a  fellow- 
countyman,  and  "  nearly  a  neighbour," 
of  theirs.  As  the  students  were  allowed  to 
select  their  own  companions  in  St.  Brigid's 
it  seemed  highly  probable  that  the  trio 
were  to  "  stick  together  "  in  the  future. 

"  I  got  Rhetoric,"     exclaimed  Delaney, 
breathlessly ;   "  Muldoon,  the  western  fel 
low,  told  me  ye  got  Senior  Humanity  ;  but 
'tis  a  good  class  for  ye  all  right ;  ye're  both 
a  good  deal  younger  than  me." 

"  You  aren't  half  such  a  great  fellow  as 
you  think,"  said  O'Neill ;  "  I'd  get  Rhetoric 
only  for  Greek." 


THE   OLD   MEN   RETURN  27 

"Oh,  never  mind,  O'Neill,"  said  O'Don- 
nell,  "  he  deserved  it,  I  suppose,  and  we 
didn't.  I  know  I'm  glad  he  got  it." 

"  There  isn't  a  lot  to  boast  about  in  my 
getting  Rhetoric,"  said  Delaney  quietly. 
"  Goodness  knows  I'm  studying  for  it 
long  enough — six  years." 

"  Well,  we  have  enough  about  it,  I 
should  think,"  said  O'Donnell ;  "  but  what 
sort  will  the  old  men  be,  or  what  sort  of  a 
time  will  we  have  with  them  for  a  while  ? 
I  believe  they  are  awfully  hard  on  the  new 
men — make  'em  sing  and  do  all  sorts  of 
foolish  things." 

"  They  won't  make  me  do  it,"  said 
O'Neill. 

"I  doubt  that,"  said  Delaney.  "I 
expect  they'll  make  it  hotter  for  you  if  you 
turn  up  your  nose.  The  quieter  we  take 
them  the  better.  And  another  thing, 
O'Neill,  you'd  better  let  young  Murphy 
alone.  There  will  likely  be  some  fellows 
now  that  will  take  his  part ;  and  besides, 
what  right  have  we  to  be  at  him  like  that  ? 
I  for  one  won't  mind  him  for  the  future." 

"  Because  you're  afraid." 

"  Well  call  it  what  you  like,  but  I  won't. 
It's  no  use  arguing  with  you,  but  we'll  see 
the  old  men  soon." 

They  did.  Next  day  from  one  to  two 
o'clock  the  old  men  kept  pouring  into  the 
college.  A  fine,  sturdy,  determined  lot  of 


28  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

fellows  they  looked.  They  were  so  busy 
handshaking,  recounting  tales  of  the  vaca- 
tion, finding  out  their  rooms  for  the  coming 
year,  and  pulling  their  trunks  upstairs, 
that  they  appeared  not  to  realize  the 
presence  of  the  new  men.  The  prophecies 
of  O'Donnell  and  Delaney  seemed  blown 
to  the  winds,  and  O'Neill,  who  had  been 
so  calm  about  it,  did  not  neglect  to  in- 
sinuate the  old  platitude  :  "  I  told  you  so." 
However,  at  supper  that  night  the  old  men 
did  seem  to  look  at  their  recently  acquired 
brethren,  but  still  they  seemed  to  take  but 
a  very  passing  interest  in  them,  except 
such  of  them  as  knew  some  of  the  "  re- 
cruits "  previously. 

Next  day  the  sound  of  hammering  was 
heard  on  all  sides,  and  veterans  in  their 
shirt  sleeves  stood  here  and  there  chatting 
with  their  neighbours  across  the  corridor. 
It  was  evident  to  the  new  men  that  their 
older  brethren  were  engaged  in  fixing  up 
their  rooms,  and  hence  they  would  not 
trouble  them  for  the  present. 

We  ought  to  explain  to  the  reader  that 
the_apprehension  of  the  youngsters  as  to 
the  old  men's  interest  in  them  was  not 
quite  groundless.  In  Irish  seminaries  there 
was  an  old  peculiar  custom  cherished  from 
time  immemorial,  and  no  doubt  devised  to 
test  the  nerve  and  the  humour  of  new- 
comers. This  practice,  unaccountably 


THE    OLD   MEN    RETURN  29 

called  "  conorizing,"  was  a  relic  of  a  rougher 
age,  and  an  ordeal  that  sometimes  caused 
no  little  pain  to  the  victims,  as  well  as 
enormous  fun  to  the  on-lookers.  There 
was  no  physical  violence  in  it  whatever, 
but  a  more  subtle  kind  of  torment  for  those 
who  either  would  not  or  could  not  easily 
stand  the  test.  Each  boy  wa  s  put  up  in  turn, 
and,  no  matter  how  nervous  or  awkward, 
had  to  sing,  dance,  play  or  recite  before  a 
crowd  of  his  seniors,  whose  privilege  it 
was  to  behave  in  the  most  unmerciful 
way  to  the  performer.  If  the  latter  would, 
or  more  often  could,  not  respond  to  the 
invitation  to  perform,  he  was  simply  bullied 
till  he  did  what  was  wanted.  He  might  be 
put  down — but  then  he  would  have  to 
appear  again,  probably  the  next  night, 
and  if  there  was  any  obstinacy  suspected, 
for  a  whole  succession  of  nights,  until  he 
managed,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  to  appease 
the  tormenting  audience.  If  it  were  not 
that,  owing  to  custom  and  the  thoughtless- 
ness of  some  of  the  rougher  sort,  the  joke 
was  carried  at  times  too  far,  to  the  very 
verge  of  brutality  in  fact,  "  conorizing  " 
had  its  good  side,  for  it  both  tested  the  boys 
and  taught  them  presence  of  mind  as  well 
as  patience.  And  indeed  if  they  made  any 
good  attempt  at  doing  or  saying  anything, 
they  were  often  let  off  lightly  enough. 
Such,  on  the  evening  in  question,  was 


30  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

the  fate  hanging  over  our  young  friends  ; 
but  they  found  there  was  an  unexpected 
reprieve.  A  notice  had  appeared  stating 
that  the  annual  retreat  would  commence 
at  6.30,  and  that  for  four  full  days  suc- 
ceeding, silence  was  to  be  strictly  observed. 
Jim  had  heard  of  this,  of  course,  before,  and 
had  an  idea  that  it  would  be  a  very  dull 
and  monotonous  affair — almost  as  though 
four  days  was  going  to  be  taken  out  of  his 
new  college  life. 

He  had  not  gone  very  far  in  the  retreat 
when  his  ideas  about  it  were  undergoing 
a  radical  change.  What  struck  him  most 
at  first  was  the  air  of  devotion  which 
seemed  to  surround  the  boys.  The  old 
men  were  evidently  taking  it  very  much  in 
earnest,  and  the  new  boys,  young  and 
thoughtless  as  they  were,  showed  by  un- 
mistakable signs  that  they  were  being 
caught  as  though  by  an  irresistible  spell. 
The  way  they  answered  the  prayers  and  the 
Rosary,  and  the  way  they  sang  at  Bene- 
diction, left  no  doubt  about  the  fervour 
which  thfr  retreat  was  stirring  in  their 
fresh  young  hearts.  As  the  days  progressed 
the  silence  and  gravity,  of  the  seniors 
especially,  grew  deeper,  and  when,  towards 
the  end  of  the  retreat,  the  Confessions 
were  made,  the  gay,  dashing  young  fellows, 
who  had  been  rushing  about  the  house  and 
up  the  stairs,  seemed  transformed  into 


THE   OLD   MEN   RETURN  31 

veritable  models  of  sanctity  and  decorum. 
The  Missioner  who  gave  the  lectures  of 
the  retreat  certainly  impressed  them  deeply 
when  appealing  to  their  hearts.  He  seemed 
to  understand  boys,  and,  even  when  he 
spoke  of  the  holiness  of  their  vocation,  did 
not  appear  to  them  to  be  over-exacting. 
The  keynote  of  his  doctrine  was  the  value 
of  life,  which  he  depicted  as  a  battle-field, 
in  which  courage  is  the  one  thing  necessary. 
There  was  no  appeal  to  mere  sentiment, 
but  his  hearers  were  solemnly  warned  that 
if  they  did  not  live  by  principle  in  their 
college  days  they  would  never  be  true  men 
or  good  priests  hereafter. 

This  doctrine  Jim  O'Neill  gladly  accepted. 
It  was  congenial  to  his  temperament,  and 
when  he  heard  it  for  the  first  time  addressed 
to  him  directly  and  personally  he  rejoiced 
at  it.  But  it  was  the  way  that  the  Mis- 
sioner spoke  of  vocation  which  came  home 
to  his  mind  with  deepest  force.  In  years 
long  after  he  remembered  the  effect  pro- 
duced on  his  mind  by  this  first  retreat, 
whether  it  was  the  words  of  the  priest, 
or  the  prolonged  silence  and  the  solemnity 
of  the  mystic  shadows,  which  fell  over  the 
back  benches  where  the  younger  boys 
always  sat  during  the  lectures.  When  the 
preacher  spoke  of  young  men  being  forced 
into  the  Church  from  unworthy  motives, 
or  of  those  who  entered  it  to  please  parents 


82  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

and  friends,  Jim  could  not  help  congratu- 
lating himself  that  he  at  least  had  come 
there  almost  at  the  point  of  his  father's 
displeasure,  though  that  had  been  short- 
lived. But  this  was  not  all.  Jim  was 
made  to  understand  very  clearly  that  a 
mere  desire  on  the  part  of  a  boy  to  enter 
the  Church  was  by  no  means  enough. 
If  he  was  to  be  sure  of  the  truth  of  his 
vocation  he  must  watch  himself,  must 
become  certain,  and  more  and  more  certain 
as  time  proceeds,  that  he  is  following  God's 
will  as  well  as  his  own. 

Jim  was  naturally  a  rough-and-ready 
sort  of  person,  easy-going  to  a  fault ; 
but  he  had  a  strictly  honest  mind,  and 
was  not  wanting  in  common  sense  or  in 
essential  thoughtfulness.  Therefore  from 
this  day  forward  the  question  of  his  voca- 
tion became  to  him  a  very  real  one.  Al- 
ready in  his  mind  were  two  resolutions 
more  or  less  consciously  formed.  One  was 
that  he  would  never  attempt  to  foist 
himself  into  the  priesthood  if  his  vocation 
was  doubtful ;  and  the  other  was  that 
if  he  failed  for  the  Church  it  should  not 
be  by  his  own  fault.  Perhaps  he  did  not 
yet  realize  how  much  his  spiritual  life 
had  been  already  deepened  by  the  simple 
experience  of  four  days ;  what  he  felt  was 
a  quickening  of  his  blood ;  he  felt  a  good 
deal  more  of  a  man  than  he  had  ever  before  ; 


THE   OLD   MEN   RETURN  33 

on  the  whole,  perhaps  gratitude  to  God  for 
bringing  him  to  college  was  his  predomi- 
nant emotion.  On  the  morning  of  General 
Communion  many  a  thanksgiving  was 
indeed  fervent,  but  of  all  the  voices  that 
rang  out  in  the  final  Tantum  Ergo  none  was 
more  gladsome  than  Jim's. 

After  the  retreat  everything  external 
went  on  as  before. 

There  was  much  merriment  and  cheery 
chatter  at  breakfast,  and  then  the  students 
prepared  for  a  walk  about  the  country. 
The  senior  Prefect  interviewed  the  new 
men  in  the  dormitory,  and  told  them 
as  precisely  as  possible  what  they  were  to 
do  in  the  immediate  future.  They  were 
each  to  select  a  partner  for  the  weekly 
and  "  free  day  "  walks.  They  were  free 
to  select  whom  they  liked,  but  he  would 
suggest  that  they  find  somebody  as  near 
as  possible  to  their  own  class,  and  who  was 
not  walking  with  them  in  the  ordinary 
recreations  in  the  college.  After  giving 
them  some  instructions  on  the  matters  of 
"  get-up  "  and  their  conduct  in  the  walks, 
he  left  them. 

"  I'll  ask  young  Murphy  to  come  with  me, 
I  think,"  said  O'Donnell. 

"  Oh,  all  right ;  make  an  ass  of  yourself 
if  you  like,"  said  O'Neill.  "  Delaney  and 
I  will  go  together ;  won't  we,  Delaney  ? 
All  right.  Sure  Murphy  is  only  in  Gram- 

4 


84  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

mars,  and  besides  being  a  silly  little  kid, 
he  has  a  face  like  a  doll." 

"  You  just  mind  your  own  business,  and 
that  settles  it,"  said  Joe,  rather  more 
sharply  than  was  his  wont.  He  seemed 
to  see  more  of  a  point  in  O'Neill's  remark 
than  O'Neill  himself  did. 

They  formed  up  in  procession  for  the 
walk  in  due  time,  O'Neill  and  Delaney 
being  "  partners,"  and  O'Donnell  and 
young  Murphy. 

During  the  walk  the  retreat  was  naturally 
a  subject  of  discussion,  and  Jim  remarked 
to  his  companion  that  the  seniors  were  not 
such  a  bad  lot  of  men  after  all. 

"  Wait  till  you  see  to-night  how  they 
will  treat  you,"  said  O'Donnell. 

"  Well,  I  am  not  afraid  of  them  even  if 
they  do  '  conorize  '  us,  but  I  don't  believe 
they  will." 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  would  rather  give  up  the 
big  hurling  match  than  to  persecute  the 
new  men." 

"  But  I  heard  it  was  going  to  be  put 
down  by  the  College  Council.  They  say  it 
is  a  disgrace  to  Ireland  to  frighten  us 
youngsters  to  death  with  their  shouting 
and  ridiculous  criticizing.  Not  that  I  care 
two  straws  about  them  myself." 

"  Of  course  you  don't ;  it  is  only  the 
honour  of  Ireland  you  care  for,  we  know. 
I  wish  it  was  over.  I  don't  believe  the 


THE   OLD   MEN   RETURN  85 

President  and  the  Dean  and  the  whole  of 
them  could  stop  it ;  why,  the  theologians 
would  pull  the  house  down  if  it  were  really 
interfered  with." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  ;  they  looked  meek 
enough  last  night  and  this  morning.  What 
sort  of  men  are  they,  O'Donnell  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you'll  see  if  you  wait  a  bit,"  said 
Joe. 

Perhaps  the  apprehension  is  worse  than 
the  reality,  but  some  of  the  newcomers 
were  destined  that  night  to  learn  that 
they  were  not  nearly  such  fine  fellows  as 
either  themselves  or  their  people  had 
imagined  some  of  them  to  be.  Immediately 
supper  was  over  there  was  a  regular  hurri- 
cane of  voices  shouting  :  "  Put  him  up," 
"Put  him  up."  The  din  increased  in  fury 
until  the  whole  crowd  had  assembled  around 
the  foot  of  the  stairs.  "  Trot  them  out 
now,"  said  big  Jim  Mockler,  a  stalwart 
member  of  the  Theology  class,  with  the 
voice  and  air  of  a  commanding  officer.  "  Take 
'em  easy  now,  Jim  ;  they  were  all '  pets  '  at 
home,"  said  a  voice  in  the  crowd,  amidst 
much  laughter.  "  Wait  till  I  get  the 
tuning -fork  for  you,  Mockler,"  said 
another. 

"  Never  mind  the  tuning-fork,"  said 
Jim,  "  I  don't  know  very  much  about 
music."  Voices:  "You  do,  Jim,"  "Aren't 
you  in  the  Thursday  choir?"  "Didn't 


36  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

you  sing  at  Moroney's  during  the  vac.?  " 
etc.,  each  remark  being  received  with  loud 
peals  of  laughter. 

"  Time  is  precious,  boys,"  said  Mockler. 
"  Put  'em  up  ;  "  and  the  roar  of  "  Put  'em 
up,"  "  Put  'em  up"  resounded  with  renewed 
vigour. 

The  first  man  compelled  to  make  his 
debut  was  Muldoon,  "  the  western  fellow." 
He  was  commanded  by  Jim  to  "  sing  for 
the  gentlemen." 

"  I'm  no  good  to  sing,"  said  Muldoon. 

44  You  must,  you  must,"  roared  the 
crowd. 

44  This  is  a  very  serious  matter,  Mister 
Aisygoin',  "  said  Mockler.  "  You've  got 
to  obey  orders  here." 

"  I'll  try,  sir." 

"  Hear,  hear,"  from  the  crowd,  and  a 
voice  :  "  You  ought  to  give  him  a  penny, 
Jim,  for  being  the  first  to  call  you  sir." 

"  Sing,"  roared  Jim. 

"  Ahem,"  said  Muldoon,  preparing  for 
the  ordeal. 

"Ahem,"  said  Jim,  mimicking  Muldoon, 
amidst  much  merriment.  "  Begor,  but 
that's  quare  singing." 

"  '  When  all  beside  a  vigil  keep,' "  began 
Muldoon. 

"  That  won't  do,"  roared  some  one. 

44  It  will,"  roared  some  one  else. 

The   point    was   discussed   hotly   by   a 


THE   OLD    MEN    RETURN  37 

section  of  the  crowd,  and  at  length  Muldoon 
was  allowed  to  proceed,  but  not  without 
some  interruptions. 

*'  I  think  he's  all  right  now,  lads,"  said 
Jim  as  soon  as  Muldoon  had  got  through 
one  verse  and  the  crowd  had  responded  to 
the  chorus.  "  Are  you  cured  now  ?  " 

"  Of  what,  sir  ?  " 

"  Of  the  swelled  head  ?  " 

"  I  am,  sir." 

'*  He'll  do  now,"  said  Mockler.  "  Bring 
on  the  next  man." 

And  so  the  "  proceedings  "  continued  for 
a  long  time,  the  "  curing  "  of  each  fresh 
patient  being  practically  a  repetition  of 
Muldoon's  experience,  until  our  friend, 
Jim  O'Neill,  appeared  on  the  scene. 

"  Sing,"  roared  Mockler  as  usual. 

"  I  won't,"  replied  Jim. 

"  Hello,  what's  this  ? "  exclaimed 
Mockler. 

"  Make  him  do  it,  make  him  do  it," 
roared  the  crowd. 

14  Wisha,  maybe  he  was  a  '  pet,' "  said 
Mockler.  "  We'll  take  him  aisy  and  see 
what  he'll  do.  I'll  give  you  two  sticks  of 
sugar  o'  candy  for  every  song,  Georgie. 
Now,  will  you  sing  ?  " 

'  No,"  replied  Jim  defiantly. 

"  He'll  have  to,"  roared  the  crowd. 

"  I  won't,"  declared  Jim. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mockler,   "as 


88  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

we  have  a  big  programme  to  get  through 
this  evening  we'll  have  to  deny  ourselves 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  Georgie — (loud 
laughter) — for  the  present.  But  to-morrow 
evening,  gentlemen,  our  Grand  Concert, 
perhaps  for  the  last  time  in  our  history, 
will  be  opened  at  the  usual  hour  by  a 
selection  from  '  Maritana '  by  Georgie, 
whether  he  likes  it  or  not." 

"  Hear,  hear ;  catch  them  trying  to 
interfere !  "  shouted  one  of  the  crowd. 
"  Don't  forget  the  tuning-fork,  Jim," 
shouted  another. 

The  next  man  put  up  was  Joe  O'Donnell. 
The  crowd,  as  usual,  was  disposed  to  banter, 
but  Joe  took  the  affair  in  such  good  part, 
and  sang  "  Loch  Lomond  "  in  such  a  fine, 
soft  voice,  that  from  the  first  verse  onwards 
he  was  listened  to  with  rapt  attention, ,  and 
was  rewarded  by  a  hearty  clap  and  an 
encore. 

Young  Murphy  was  put  up  then,  but  the 
crowd  was  in  such  good  humour,  and  the 
evening  was  getting  so  late,  that  they  let 
him  off  with  one  timid  verse  of  "  Erin,  the 
Tear." 

O'Neill  was  partially  cured  after  all ; 
and  on  the  next  evening,  with  the  best 
grace  possible,  he  sang,  amidst  much  banter 
and  interruption,  the  only  song  he  could 
think  of,  "  God  Save  Ireland."  They  kept 
him  up  the  whole  time,  and  whenever 


THE   JUNIORS'    VICTORY  39 

matters  began  to  get  slow  somebody  in  the 
crowd  was  sure  to  call  for  the  "  Chorus," 
and,  the  song  being  well  known  to  them 
all,  there  was  always  a  terrific  response. 

After  all  the  Dean  had  thought  it  better 
not  to  inferfere,  but  it  was  a  historic  oc- 
casion, for  "  conorizing  "  never  occurred 
again  at  Ballyhynes. 

Jim  O'Neill  had  learned  something — in 
fact,  his  "  making  "  had  already  begun. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   JUNIORS'   VICTORY 

THE  great  inter-division  hurling  match  was 
looming  on  the  horizon.  It  was  to  take 
place  on  the  first  Sunday  of  December, 
and  for  weeks  beforehand  it  was  the  chief 
subject  of  conversation  amongst  the  juniors. 
An  inter-division  match  between  seniors 
and  juniors  was  a  time-honoured  institution 
at  Ballyhynes.  In  the  old  days  it  was  at 
football  that  the  rival  divisions  tried  con- 
clusions, but  in  the  recent  years  hurling  had 
become  the  popular,  and  pretty  nearly  the 
only,  game  in  the  College.  Within  the 
memory  of  the  oldest  student  the  juniors 
had  never  beaten  the  seniors  (although, 
indeed,  the  victory  was  sometimes  dearly 


40  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

bought  by  the  older  brethren,  and  there 
were  curates  in  the  diocese  who  told,  in 
graphic  language,  of  a  snatched  victory  of 
the  juniors  one  historic  first  Sunday  in 
December  long  ago) ;  so  that  the  latter  had 
come  to  regard  a  win  as  a  foregone  con- 
clusion for  them. 

This  year  the  juniors  were  confident  of 
then*  own  powers.  Amongst  the  new  men 
were  some  splendid  hurlers — sturdy  fellows, 
smart  and  dashing,  with  a  full  knowledge 
of  all  the  dodges  of  the  game.  Some  of  the 
juniors,  indeed,  who  had  come  into  the 
College  for  their  Grammars,  and  so  had 
witnessed  defeat  after  defeat  of  their  own 
division,  just  smiled  and  said  dogmatically  : 
"  You  couldn't  beat  the  seniors,  that's  all ;  " 
but  the  vast  majority  in  the  division  were 
inclined  to  be  sanguine. 

Tom  Brophy,  the  junior  captain,  had  his 
heart  set  on  securing  victory  for  his  team. 
He  was  rather  ambitious,  and,  on  the 
evening  he  had  been  elected  captain,  he  had 
vowed  that  he  would  make  a  record  and 
would  beat  the  senior  team,  under  the 
rather  able  captaincy  of  Jim  Mockler. 
With  the  airs — and  a  good  deal  of  the 
instincts,  too — of  a  commanding  officer 
about  to  choose  a  picked  troop  f or  a  "  for- 
lorn hope,"  Brophy  had  been  studying  the 
merits  of  his  men  ever  since  September. 
He  knew  exactly  the  worth,  as  a  hurler, 


THE   JUNIORS'   VICTORY  41 

of  every  man  in  the  junior  division,  and 
knew  also  what  part  of  the  field  every  man 
was  at  his  best  in.  The  merits  of  individual 
seniors,  too,  were  well  known  to  him  from 
past  experience ;  but,  better  still,  he  knew 
all  their  weak  points  as  well,  and  he  was 
calculating  how  to  make  the  best  use  of  all 
that  knowledge.  On  the  whole,  he  was  a 
very  able  captain. 

There  were  forty-five  students  in  the 
junior  division,  and  of  the  lot  only  about  five 
were  non-combatants  from  the  hurling 
point  of  view.  Only  seventeen  could  play  in 
the  team,  so  to  get  a  "  place  "  in  it  was  no 
small  honour  indeed. 

On  the  Sunday  previous  to  the  great 
trysting  day  Brophy  assembled  the  juniors 
in  the  recreation  hall,  and,  amidst  breath- 
less silence,  announced  that  he  was  going 
to  read  the  names  of  those  whom  he  had 
selected  to  represent  the  division  in  the 
match  against  the  seniors.  As  captain  it 
was  his  privilege  to  select  or  reject  whom  he 
liked ;  and,  although  there  was  no  appeal 
from  his  selection,  it  naturally  gave  rise 
to  a  good  deal  of  jealousy  and  criticism. 
He  read  the  names  then,  beginning  at  the 
goalkeeper,  and  continuing  on  "up  the 
field "  to  the  extreme  forward.  Joe 
O'Donnell  was  known  as  a  reliable  striker, 
without  possessing  the  qualities  of  strength 
or  speed  or  courage  to  a  marked  degree. 


42  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM    O  NEILL 

He  was  appointed  goal-keeper.  The  position 
of  "  full  back  "  was  next.  It  was  the  most 
responsible  one  on  the  field,  as  the  holder 
of  it  had  to  do  all  the  real  defence  of  the 
goal,  besides  having  to  push  up  the  field 
and  help  the  centre  as  the  play  demanded. 
Jim  O'Neill,  to  his  great  delight,  was 
appointed  to  this  position ;  for  Brophy 
recognized  that  Jim  was  just  an  ideal  man 
to  set  up  a  stubborn  defence  of  the  posts, 
and  the  only  man,  he  believed,  who  could 
offer  genuine  opposition  to  the  slashing 
forward  work  of  Mockler,  for  whom  "  the 
van  was  the  right  "  in  all  big  matches. 

As  he  read  the  other  names  in  order  there 
were  murmurs  of  disapproval  now  and  then, 
and  several  of  the  selected  team  declared 
their  displeasure  at  the  places  to  which 
they  had  been  assigned ;  but  when  he  read 
the  name  of  Jack  Murphy  for  the  right 
wing  forward  there  was  a  veritable  storm 
of  dissent. 

"  Nonsense  !  What  good  is  he  ? " 
shouted  several. 

"  What  in  the  world  do  you  want  a  baby 
like  that  in  the  team  for  ?  "  roared  Jim 
O'Neill. 

"  Now,"  said  Brophy,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  felt  himself  superior  to  the  rest,  and 
who  had  long  ago  decided  that  his  selection 
was  to  be  immutable,  but  who,  neverthe- 
less, was  quite  prepared  for  having  exception 


THE   JUNIORS'   VICTORY  43 

taken  to  it,  "  now,  I  think  I  know  what 
hurling  is,  and  what  a  right  wing  forward 
is.  Tisn't  a  big,  heavy,  awkward  fellow 
you  want  out  there,  but  a  light,  active 
fellow,  pretty  quick,  and  with  a  good,  sure 
aim.  The  most  of  the  scoring  can  be  done 
from  that  place,  and  I'll  guarantee  Murphy 
will  do  it.  I've  been  watching  his  hurling 
for  a  long  time,  and  I'm  sure  you'll  all  say 
I  was  right  next  Sunday." 

"  You'll  be  sorry,"  said  O'Neill. 

"  I  won't,"  said  Brophy. 

"  You'll  see,"  said  half  a  dozen  voices. 


The  great  day  came  at  last,  and  when  the 
teams  "  lined  up  "  in  the  field  the  excite- 
ment amongst  the  onlookers  and  players 
reached  fever  pitch.  Peter  Flanagan,  the 
popular  senior  Prefect,  was  referee,  and, 
to  the  sound  of  lusty  cheers  from  the  spec- 
tators, and  the  rattle  of  the  players'  hurleys, 
he  threw  in  the  ball.  The  players  spread- 
eagled  out  through  the  field,  and  took  up 
the  various  positions  which  had  been 
assigned  to  them  by  their  respective  cap- 
tains. It  was  an  old  dodge  of  the  seniors 
to  take  the  juniors  unawares  and  rush  a 
goal  at  the  very  start.  They  tried  it  again. 
Down  the  field  they  swept  the  ball,  slashing 
down  all  opposition.  They  passed  the 
"  three-quarter  backs."  "  In,"  shouted  the 


44  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

crowd.  "  Pass  to  Mockler,"  roared  a  voice. 
The  wing  forward  passed  to  Mockler.  With 
one  fierce  stride  Mockler  was  on  the  ball. 
"  In,  Jim,"  roared  his  fellow-seniors 
amongst  the  crowd,  who  knew  the  captain's 
prowess  of  old.  With  one  light  touch 
Mockler  had  lifted  the  ball,  and  then  swung 
his  hurley  round  to  strike  it  between  the 
posts.  He  drew ;  but  two  hurleys  struck 
the  ball  simultaneously,  and  it  bounded 
into  the  air  between  himself  and  Jim 
O'NeilL  The  senior  captain  was  so  much 
taken  back  by  the  unexpected  opposition 
that  he  paused  for  a  moment  before  renew- 
ing the  attack.  When  he  struck  again  he 
was  too  late ;  O'Neill  had  sent  the  leather 
flying  up  the  field.  Around  mid-field  the 
conflict  raged.  Once  again  the  seniors 
forced  the  ball  to  the  very  mouth  of  the 
juniors'  goal,  and  once  again  the  bold  de- 
fence was  too  much  for  them.  The  ball 
went  wide  at  the  junior  end,  and,  with  his 
"  free  puck,"  O'Donnell  sent  it  flying  up 
the  field.  A  random  shot  from  the  three- 
quarters  sent  it  to  the  right  wing.  Murphy 
was  at  his  post.  With  one  lightning  flash, 
and  before  the  heavy  senior  back  man  could 
slash  down  his  hurley,  he  met  the  flying 
ball  and  drove  it  through  the  posts  for  a 
"  point."  There  were  roars  of  "  Good 
boy,  Jack,"  "  Up,  juniors,"  etc.,  from 
outside.  The  juniors  had  drawn  first  blood  j 


THE   JUNIORS'   VICTORY  45 

Up  and  down  through  the  field  the  crash 
of  camans  resounded.  After  three  successive 
dashing  charges  for  the  posts  the  seniors 
succeeded  in  getting  through  for  a  point, 
and  the  rival  teams  stood  equal.  For  the 
remainder  of  the  first  half  the  charges  and 
defences  on  both  sides  were  nothing  less 
than  desperate,  but,  before  the  com- 
pletion of  the  half  hour,  no  further  score 
was  recorded. 

After  the  brief  interval  allowed  at  the 
"  half  time,"  the  teams,  having  changed 
sides,  were  at  it  again  as  hard  as  ever. 
Ten  minutes  of  up  and  down  play  without 
a  score  went  by.  Then  the  junior  captain, 
almost  unaided,  carried  the  ball  up  along 
the  right  wing.  Just  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment, when  the  senior  backs  moved  out 
against  him,  he  passed  in  to  Murphy,  and 
again  the  right  wing  forward  scored  !  The 
junior  blood  was  up,  and  they  soon  added 
another  point  to  their  total.  From  that  on 
to  about  five  minutes  before  the  final  whistle 
neither  posts  were  in  danger.  At  that  time 
the  seniors  concentrated  all  their  energy 
on  one  dashing  charge,  making  the  utmost 
use  of  the  advantage  which  their  superior 
strength  gave  them.  Once  again  they  had 
the  ball  at  the  very  mouth  of  the  juniors' 
goal.  Could  they  force  it  through  for  the 
major  score  it  would  make  them  victors — 
a  goal  being  equal  to  three  points,  they 


46  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

would  then  be  leading  by  four  points  to 
three.  But  again  the  defence  was  too 
much  for  them  ;  Jim  O'Neill  was  a  tower  of 
strength  in  the  back.  From  all  sides  the 
names  of  "  Mockler  "  and  "O'Neill"  re- 
sounded. Right  down  almost  between  the 
posts  the  struggle  waxed  hotter  and  hotter. 
"  A  few  minutes  more,"  shouted  the  crowd. 
Mockler  lost  his  temper,  and  struck  out 
fiercely,  but  wildly.  O'Neill  seized  the 
opportunity,  and  sent  the  ball  up  the 
field  again,  as  the  juniors  on  the  touch 
line  roared  themselves  hoarse.  Another 
struggle  for  its  possession  took  place  where 
the  ball  fell,  but  in  a  moment  more  the 
referee's  whistle  was  sounded,  leaving  the 
juniors  victorious  on  the  score  of  three 
points  to  one.  O'Neill  and  Murphy  were 
the  heroes  of  the  hour. 

The  juniors  were  in  high  spirits  when 
they  assembled  in  the  recreation  hall  that 
evening.  O'Neill  took  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  congratulating  young  Murphy  on 
his  play,  and  of  apologising  to  him  for  his 
remarks  on  the  previous  Sunday.  They 
had,  in  fact,  become  fast  friends — those 
two  heroes  of  the  day. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Brophy,  the  eyes 
literally  dancing  in  his  head  with  pleasure, 
"  we  ought  to  be  proud  of  our  great  victory 
to-day."  (Cheers.)  "For  the  first  time, 
as  far  as  anyone  can  remember,  the  juniors 


THE   JUNIORS'   VICTORY  47 

have  beaten  the  seniors ;  and  it  wasn't  a 
chance  victory  either — we  hurled  them  fair 
and  square,  and  we  beat  them."  (Re- 
newed cheering.)  "  I  think  we  couldn't 
do  better  than  celebrate  the  victory  by 
having  a  bit  of  an  evening's  '  divarsion,' 
and  I'll  ask  Horan,  as  senior  of  the  study 
hall,  to  call  whoever  he  likes  for  a  song." 
("Hear,  hear.") 

"Righto!"  said  Horan;  "  O'Donnell's 
song,  please."  Joe  sang  "  Avourneen " 
in  fine  style,  and  had  to  respond  to  a  hearty 
encore.  M'Grath  sang  "  The  Mountains 
of  Mourne,"  and  a  Senior  Humanitarian, 
named  Daly,  danced  a  hornpipe  to  Mul- 
doon's  music.  Muldoon  had  been  making 
a  name  for  himself  as  a  "  character  "  since 
September,  and  was  exceedingly  popular 
with  the  other  students.  He  was  interest- 
ing from  the  point  of  view  of  his  peculiar 
accent  and  his  witty  sayings,  but  his 
crowning  glory  was  his  concertina. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Muldoon 
(amidst  loud  laughter,  and  a  remark  of  : 
"  Was  it  in  a  circus  you  heard  that  ?  "), 
"  you  often  heard  that  '  the  man  who  pays 
the  piper  can  call  the  tune,'  but  as  con- 
certina players  are  not  paid  at  all  they 
always  claim  that  privilege  themselves.  I 
propose  that  the  next  song  be  a  dance ; 
in  fact,  that  ye  have  a  real  old  '  set,'  and 
my  musical  services  are  at  your  disposal." 


48  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

"  Exactly,"  exclaimed  O'Donnell. 

The  desks  were  removed  to  the  sides 
and  the  floor  was  soon  ready  for  the  dance. 

"  Let's  have  a  set  of  quadrilles,"  said 
O'Donnell. 

"  No,  we  won't,"  said  Ned  Delaney ; 
"  we  are  going  to  start  with  our  own  Irish 
dancing  ;  it  is  time  to  give  up  these  imported 
things.  What  about  a  four-hand  reel  ?  " 

"  True  for  you,  Ned,"  was  heard  on  all 
sides.  Ned  himself  led  off  with  Horan ; 
and  O'Donnell  was  choosing  Jack  Murphy 
for  his  partner,  when  Horan  shouted  out : 

"  Look  here,  O'Donnell,  can't  you  take 
one  of  your  own  class  for  partner  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  anyone  I  like,"  said  O'Donnell, 
growing  red  in  the  face.  "  Who's  going  to 
prevent  me  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  another,  "  let  him  make 
a  fool  of  himself  if  he  likes." 

"  No  !  "  said  Horan.  "It  is  always  the 
custom  to  keep  to  our  own  classes  for 
partners." 

"  Is  there  any  rule  of  the  house  ?  "  said 
O'Donnell.  "  Not  that  I  care  one  straw 
about  a  partner  or  about  this  old  Irish 
dance  of  yours  !  You  make  a  great  fuss 
about  nothing." 

"  Well,"  said  Horan,  "  since  you  ask,  I 
may  as  well  tell  you  there  is  no  rule  of  the 
house  about  that  sort  of  thing — nor  there 
was  never  any  necessity  for  it,  as  far  as  I 


THE   JUNIORS'   VICTORY  49 

know.     Everybody  here  knows  what  *  play- 
ing the  game  '  means." 

O'Donnell  saw  that  he  had  better  subside, 
whether  he  liked  it  or  not.  So  he  got 
another  partner,  and  the  little  breeze  was 
over,  and  the  dancing  went  on  briskly. 

Jim  O'Neill  was  looking  on,  but  never 
took  any  part  in  the  dancing.  He  saw 
Murphy  crestfallen,  and  as  he  could  not 
understand  what  all  the  fuss  was  about, 
he  said  to  him  : 

"  Don't  mind  all  that  sort  of  rot." 

"  No,  I  don't  mind  it,"  said  Jack ;  "  we 
are  going  to  put  up  a  set  of  our  own,  I 
think,"  meaning  the  Grammarians. 

"  The  very  best  thing  you  could  do," 
said  O'Neill,  '*  and  then  you  will  be  in- 
dependent of  our  set." 

Some  of  the  others,  noticing  this  little 
Ute-d-tete,  took  an  entirely  wrong  view  of 
Jim's  action. 

"  Hello,  O'Neill,"  said  Horan,  "  so  you're 
just  as  bad  as  O'Donnell,  are  you,  in  your 
own  way  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  O'Neill ; 
"  are  you  an  ass,  or  do  you  think  I'm  an 
ass  ?  " 

"  I  do  think  you're  an  ass,  for  you  seem 
to  be  acting  like  one  !  " 

In  another  minute  they  faced  each  other. 
Harm  might  have  followed,  but  fortunately 
they  were  separated  immediately;   never- 
5 


50  THE   MAKING    OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

theless  the  incident  cast  a  damper  on  the 
evening's  "  divarsion."  The  majority  de- 
clared O'Neill  in  the  wrong,  and  they  took 
no  pains  to  hide  their  opinion. 

"  Oh,  he  thinks  he's  a  great  fellow  after 
his  fine  hurling  to-day,"  exclaimed  one 
fellow;  "but  no  matter  what  way  anyone 
hurls  they  can't  do  what  they  like  here." 

"  You'd  better  apologise  to  Horan," 
said  Muldoon. 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Jim,  firmly. 

There  was  a  groan  of  disapproval  all 
round. 

"  There's  no  use  in  talking,  but  O'Neill 
is  a  great  bosthoon  after  all,"  said  Brophy, 
the  captain,  "  no  matter  what  a  fine  hurler 
he  may  be." 

An  idol  was  broken  in  Jim's  temple ; 
for  he  valued  very  highly  the  good  opinion 
of  the  captain,  and  he  believed  that  he 
had  it  secure.  He  could  not  help  saying 
as  defiantly  as  possible  : 

"  It  is  my  opinion  that  you  are  troubling 
yourselves  about  nothing.  I  can't  see 
why  ye  make  any  remarks  about  Murphy 
more  than  about  anyone  else.  He  won  the 
match  to-day." 

"  Oh,  the  two  great  hurlers  !  "  said  a 
voice. 

"  What  sort  of  a  fellow  are  you,  O'Neill," 
said  Delaney,  "  that  you  can't  be  like 
everyone  else  and  let  the  fun  go  on  ?  " 


THE   JUNIORS'    VICTORY  51 

That,  too,  was  a  shot  from  arTunexpected 
quarter,  and  Jim  felt  it  sorely.  Without 
another  word  he  left  the  recreation  hall. 

Jim's  conduct  was  now  the  theme  of 
general  discussion.  Several  students  had 
remarks  to  make  about  his  queer  character 
and  quick  temper.  Soon,  however,  the 
bell  rang  for  Rosary,  and  all  present  in  the 
hall  began  to  file  silently  into  the  chapel, 
where  they  took  their  several  places. 
Rosary  was  followed  by  supper,  and  after 
supper  the  most  of  the  juniors  again  re- 
paired to  the  recreation  hall. 

"  You  might  as  well  come  in,  Jim," 
said  Delaney  to  O'Neill.  "  Of  course, 
O'Donnell  is  going  in." 

"No,  Ned;  I  won't  go  in  at  all.  I'll 
go  up  to  the  dormitory ;  I'm  tired." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you're  not  going  in,  I'm  not. 
Let  us  walk  around  the  hall  for  a  while. 
But,  look  here,  Jim,  what's  the  matter  with 
you  at  all  ?  I'm  sorry  I  said  anything  a 
while  ago,  if  that's " 

"  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me." 

"  But  surely  you  aren't  in  the  best  of  form 
to-night,  although  you  were  like  a  lion 
at  the  hurling  to-day.  Cheer  up,  old  man  ; 
Christmas  won't  be  long  coming,  and  even 
the  old  college  isn't  such  a  bad  place  after  all. 
I  know  I'm  glad  I  came  here  ;  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Sometimes  I  get  to  hate 
it,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it 


52  THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

at  all.  It  is  entirely  different  from  what  I 
expected.  Before  I  came  I  thought  being 
in  college  only  meant  doing  a  lot  of  exercises 
and  saying  a  lot  of  prayers  and  kicking 
football  sometimes,  and  I  didn't  think  the 
other  fellows  would  fall  out  with  you  like 
that  for  everything." 

"  Oughtn't  you  to  know,  Jim,  anyone 
wouldn't  stand  growling  at  them  ?  I  don't 
want  to  offend  you,  but  I  often  told  you 
that,  if  you  don't  stop  it,  all  of  them  will 
fall  out  with  you." 

"  I  can't  help  it." 

"  You  must  try,  Jim,"  said  Ned,  good- 
humouredly. 

They  walked  round  the  hall  in  silence  for 
a  while. 

"  Ned,"  said  Jim. 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  retreat  ?  " 

"I  do,  of  course ;  but  everything  in  its 
own  place." 

"  I  know ;  but  don't  you  remember  the 
way  we  were  going  around  after  it,  and 
wondering  if  we  had  a  vocation  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  we  settled  that  long  ago, 
man." 

"  Didn't  the  Missioner  tell  us  we  could 
never  be  certain  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  can  be  certain  of  nothing 
in  this  life." 

"  And  don't  you  remember  how  attentive 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  58 

all  the  fellows  were,  and  especially  the 
seniors ;  and  how  they  used  to  be  in  the 
chapel  nearly  always  praying,  and  then  the 
way  they  got  on  with  us  new  men  a  few 
nights  after  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  they  probably  believe  in  the 
same  old  proverb,  too,  about  a  '  time  and 
place,'  etc.  " 

"  It  puzzles  me  entirely." 

"  I  see  nothing  to  be  puzzled  about  in  it. 
Hello  !  here's  O'Donnell  out,  and  Murphy 
with  him.  We'll  let  them  pass.  O'Donnell 
is  the  sort  of  fellow  that  will  have  no  trouble 
about  his  vocation,  or  about  anything  else. 
He'll  just  go  on  straight  and  be  ordained 
without  any  bother  at  all." 

"  He  will." 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION 

"  WILL  Jim  be  home  for  Christmas,  Ellie  ?  " 
said  Kathleen  Mara  eagerly  to  her  bosom 
friend,  Ellie  O'Neill,  as  they  were  returning 
from  Mass  at  Glenroe  one  Sunday  morning 
in  December. 

"  Oh,  he  will,  of  course,  my  dear ;  they 
always  get  three  weeks'  vacation  at  Christ- 
mas. He's  very  anxious  to  be  home,  too  ; 
in  every  letter  he  writes  he  says  how  far  it 


54  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

is  from  the  vacation.  I  wish  he  were  home  ; 
I  have  a  whole  lot  of  things  to  ask  him  that 
you  couldn't  in  a  letter." 

"  I  want  to  see  him  too  ;  I  wonder  will  he 
be  changed  much — got  much  like  a  priest,  I 
mean.  'Tis  awfully  nice ;  I  know  I'd  like 
to  be  a  nun,  too,  only  I  couldn't  stick  it. 
Well  for  you,  Ellie,  to  have  a  brother  like 
that — not  like  me  without  any  brother  at 
all,  and  uncle  hardly  letting  me  out  of  his 
sight.  But  won't  you  let  me  know  the 
day  Jim  is  home  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  will,  and  mother  will  be 
delighted  to  have  you  come  up  ;  she  often 
says  how  lonely  you  must  be  sometimes 
in  the  parochial  house,  with  no  one  but  the 
housekeeper." 

"She's  awfully  good,  Mrs.  O'Neill  is. 
Remember  me  to  her,  please." 

"  But  won't  you  meet  Jim  often  ?  Won't 
he  be  very  often  at  your  uncle's,  like  Father 
Leahy  before  he  was  ordained  ?  " 

"  I  know  he  will,  but  uncle  will  keep 
talking  to  him  about  such  stupid  nonsense, 
all  about  Latin  and  Theologies,  or  whatever 
you  call  it ;  and  I'm  dying  to  hear  him 
talking  about  all  the  fun  in  the  college,  and 
what  the  boys  do  there,  and  all  the  rows 
they  get  into.  We  used  have  such  fun 
in  the  convent — pillow-fights  in  the  dor- 
mitory, and  everything,  and  I'm  sure  boys 
are  twice  as  bad." 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  55 

**  Won't  you  come  in  to  see  mother, 
KathJeen?"  said  Ellie,  for  they  had  just 
come  to  "  O'Neill's  stile." 

"  No,  Ellie,  thanks  ever  so  much,  and 
remember  me  to  your  mother,  please ; 
but  the  curate  is  saying  the  two  Masses  in 
Kildoran  to-day,  and  uncle  will  be  waiting 
for  me  for  breakfast.  He  might  say  I 
am  gossiping  too  much.  You  couldn't  tell 
what  he'd  say." 

"  He  must  know  you're  a  terrible  girl." 

"  Well,  really,  I'm  not  so  bad  as  he 
thinks,  but  I  like  a  bit  o'  fun,  of  course. 
I  suppose  Jim  will  bring  heaps  of  visitors 
about.  By-bye.  That's  one,  two,  three 
kisses ;  that's  enough  now,  Ellie.  Au 
revoir." 

"  Good  morning ;  here  are  the  boys 
coming.  I  must  ask  them  did  any  letters 
come  by  the  post.  Any  letters  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Ellie  ;  one  for  father." 

Ned  O'Neill  was  opening  a  letter,  which 
contained  the  now  familiar  postmark  of 
"  Ballyhynes." 

'*'  MY  DEAR  FATHER, — I  am  very  glad  to 
say  that  we  are  getting  vacation  on  the 
22nd  of  this  month — that  will  be  next 
Wednesday  week.  How  are  ye  all  ?  Is 
there  any  news  at  home  since  you  wrote 
last  ?  I  will  write  again  and  let  you 
know  what  train  I  am  coming  by,  and  I 


56  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

hope  you  will  be  able  to  send  me  my  train 
fare  when  you  are  writing  next.  Best 
wishes  to  mother  and  Ellie,  and  tell  Kath- 
leen I  have  been  having  a  very  good  time. 
I  wish  we  had  the  Christmas  examinations 
over. — Your  affectionate  son, 

"  JAMES." 

"  Oh,  the  craytur,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  O'Neill. 
"  His  heart  will  be  broke  out  entirely 
from  the  examinations.  An'  as  anxious 
as  he  was  to  go  to  college,  isn't  it  greatly 
he's  always  writing  about  how  glad  he  is 
to  have  it  comin'  near  the  vacation  time  ? 
But  I  suppose  that's  the  way  wid  gorsoons 
always." 

"  I'm  dying  to  see  him,  mother,"  said 
Ellie,  "  and  so  is  Kathleen.  I  hope  he 
won't  be  too  quiet,  and  too  much  a  priest 
this  time,  and  that  Father  Moran  won't 
keep  him  nearly  entirely  on  us." 

"  I  know  youngsters  are  always  in  a 
hurry  to  get  home  again  for  the  first  few 
offers  after  goin'  away,"  said  Ned ;  "  but 
'tis  striking  me  this  while  back,  on  account 
of  all  the  lamentations  in  his  letters,  that 
Jim  isn't  near  as  continted  in  Ballyhynes 
as  he  expected  to  be;  maybe  'tis  how  he's 
tired  of  it  already,  but  let  God's  will  be 
done !  " 

"  Arrah,  no,  Ned ;  the  craytur  has  his 
heart  set  hard  and  fast  in  bein'  a  priest, 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  57 

only  he  hasn't  the  wan  times  in  college 
that  he  had  at  home,  and  he'll  feel  that 
for  a  while." 

"  I  do  hope  he's  not  tired  of  it,"  said 
Ellie. 

Slowly  enough,  from  Jim  O'NeilFs  point 
of  view,  the  next  ten  days  went  by.  Then 
at  last  the  long- wished  for  "  Wednesday, 
December  22nd,"  arrived,  and  Jim  found 
himself  again  in  a  railway  carriage,  but  he 
was  travelling  in  a  different  direction  this 
time,  and  amidst  far  different  surroundings. 
The  carriage  he  was  in  was  filled  to  over- 
flowing with  students  of  Ballyhynes,  and 
merriment  was  the  dominant  note.  Pipes 
were  filled,  lighted  and  smoked,  with  a 
relish  to  which  long  abstinence  had  given 
zest ;  cigarettes  were  handed  round  ;  stories 
of  study  hall,  recreation  hall,  hurling  field, 
and  even  of  examinations  were  told  with 
considerable  gusto,  and  listened  to  with 
rapt  attention ;  various  songs  were  begun 
but  no  one  was  finished.  The  young 
students  were  in  a  whirl  of  delirious  ex- 
citement— they  were  going  home ! 

As  each  little  station  went  by  the  com- 
pany grew  smaller,  until,  by  the  time 
they  changed  at  the  Junction,  Jim,  O'Don- 
nell,  and  Delaney  found  themselves  alone. 

Numerous  arrangements  were  made  for 
spending  a  pleasant  Christmas  vacation, 
and,  to  ensure  meeting  each  other,  they  gave 


58  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

and  accepted  invitations  for  spending  "  one 
night  anyhow  "  at  each  other's  houses. 

"  Newt  own "  was  shouted,  and  Joe 
O'Donnell  said  "good-bye  "  ;  Kildoran  was 
next,  and  Ned  Delaney  had  to  "  finish  his 
journey  alone." 

Jim  alighted  on  the  platform,  and  saw 
his  father  immediately.  The  old  man's 
kindly  face  lighted  up  as  his  son  rushed 
towards  him  and  grasped  his  outstretched 
hand. 

"  How  in  the  world  are  you,  Jim,  at  all  ? 
I  hardly  knew  you  with  the  hat.  Welcome 
home." 

"  Thanks,  father  ;  I'm  grand.  How  are 
you  ?  How  are  mother  and  Ellie  ?  " 

"  We're  all  grand,  thanks  be  to  God. 
You  didn't  bring  any  trunk  I  suppose, 
except  the  bag  ;  sure  'twasn't  worth  your 
while  for  a  few  weeks.  Sit  up  now  on  the 
car  an'  we  won't  be  long  going  home." 

It  would  be  putting  it  too  mildly  to  say 
that  Jim  was  delighted  to  find  himself 
amidst  the  beloved  scenes  of  his  childhood 
once  again.  Every  landmark  in  the  sur- 
rounding country,  every  turn  in  the  road, 
he  hailed  with  delight,  and  his  heart  beat 
for  very  joy  as  he  drove  up  the  old  familiar 
"  boreen."  What  was  Ballyhynes  to  this. 
Ballyhynes  ?  It  flashed  across  his  mind 
like  the  memory  of  an  unpleasant  dream 
as  he  moved  through  the  old  scenes  and 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  59 

surroundings  that  he  loved  so  well.  Would 
he  ever,  he  thought,  be  able  to  tear  himself 
from  them  again  and  return  to  the  College, 
where  his  lot  had  certainly  not  been  un- 
mixed happiness  ?  He  was  anxious  to  be 
a  priest,  but  he  had  never  before  realized 
that  home  was  so  sweet  and  everywhere 
else  so  full  of  care  and  trouble  and  "  crosses" 
of  every  description.  Old  Ned  O'Neill  was 
naturally  of  a  silent  disposition,  and  par- 
ticularly so  when  his  heart  was  full  of 
joy  or  sorrow ;  so  Jim's  reverie  might  have 
long  continued  undisturbed,  but  already 
the  pony's  hoofs  were  rattling  on  the  pave- 
ment of  the  old  yard,  and  there  was  home 
itself,  and  his  mother  and  Ellie  standing 
at  the  door  beaming  a  hearty  welcome 
from  every  feature. 

"  Wisha,  welcome  home,  Jim,  alannah !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  O'Neill,  as  she  ran  to  im- 
press an  affectionate  kiss  on  her  son's 
sturdy  cheek.  "  A  hundred  thousand  wel- 
comes! And  how  is  every  bit  of  you?" 

"  Grand,  mother,  thanks." 

"  God  be  praised  !  but  'tis  you  that's 
getting  to  be  the  fine  boy  entirely.  And 
here's  Ellie.  An'  wasn't  it  she  that  was 
dying  to  have  you  home  to  her  again. 
And  Kathleen  is  always  asking  about  you." 

"  How  are  you,  Jim  ?  Welcome  home." 
'  Thanks,  Ellie  ;  I'm  grand." 

"  I'm  sure  you  have  a  good  appetite  for 


60  THE   MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

your  dinner  now,  Jim,  after  the  journey. 
'Twill  be  ready  an'  all  in  about  five  minutes," 
said  his  mother.  "  We  didn't  expect  ye 
altogether  so  soon,  but  I  suppose  your 
father  didn't  spare  the  pony  coming  up 
from  Kildoran." 

All  the  local  news  was  retailed  to  Jim's 
eager  ears  during  dinner — a  full  account 
of  all  that  had  been  born  and  had  died, 
and  of  ?11  that  had  gone  to  America  or  to 
situations  in  Dublin  or  elsewhere,  since  he 
went  to  college,  as  well  as  all  the  rumours 
of  likely  "  matches  "  for  the  coming  Shrove- 
tide. 

"  And  tell  us  all  about  college,  Jim. 
How  do  you  like  Ballyhynes  ?  " 

"  Middling,  mother  ;  middling." 

"  I  suppose  'tis  a  hard  place,  Jim  ?  " 

"  'Tis  mother  ;  very  hard." 

"  Wisha,  wid  the  help  of  God,  whin  you 
get  used  to  it  you  won't  feel  it  near  so  hard." 

"  I  suppose  so,  mother." 

"  An'  what  do  you  feel  so  hard  about  it, 
Jim  ?  Is  it  the  examinations  an'  all  the 
learnin'  ?  " 

"  Everything,  mother.  The  fellows  are 
very  queer  too.  They  do  be  at  me  for 
nothing." 

"  Sure  they  do  always  be  that  way  wid 
young  lads  whin  they  go  to  a  place  first. 
Wait  till  you  go  back  the  next  time  an' 
you'll  be  as  independent  as  any  of  them. 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  61 

Is  there  any  of  'em  coining  over  to  see 
you  ?  You  know  any  of  your  friends  there 
will  be  always  heartily  welcome  here,  as 
I  told  you  in  a  letter  some  time  ago." 

"  Yes,  mother ;  Joe  O'Donnell  from  near 
Newtown,  and  Ned  Delaney  from  near  the 
bounds  of  the  counties,  promised  to  come 
St.  Stephen's  Day,  and  they  asked  me 
to  go  to  their  houses  too." 

"  Oh,  won't  that  be  grand,  mother  !  " 
exclaimed  Ellie.  "  You  can't  refuse  me 
the  dance  you're  promising  so  long  any 
more.  Ask  father  to  let  us  have  it  on 
St.  Stephen's  Night.  I'm  sure  the  boys 
would  like  it  when  they  come." 

"Ask  him  yourself;  he  won't  refuse  you." 

"Very  well,  Ellie,"  said  her  father;  "but 
let  it  be  a  small,  nice,  respectable  one ;  an' 
don't  have  the  whole  country  tearin'  and 
draggin'  about  the  yard,  for  all  the  world 
like  a  weddin'." 

"  Oh,  never  fear,  father.  We'll  have 
only  a  few  cousins,  and  neighbours  around, 
and  the  boys  Jim  is  bringing." 

"  Tis  just  as  well  for  you  to  walk  down 
to  see  the  priest  now,  Jim,"  said  his  mother, 
as  soon  as  dinner  was  over.  "  The  poor 
man,  God  bless  him!  is  taking  a  terrible 
interest  in  you  entirely.  There  isn't  a  day 
he  passes  that  he  doesn't  ask  for  you,  an* 
there's  no  use  in  delayin'  about  going  to 
see  him." 


62  THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

"  Very  well,  mother,  I'll  go  down  now." 

'*  An'  Ellie  might  as  well  go  'long  wid 
you.  Herself  an'  Kathleen  do  be  so  great 
'twould  do  them  both  good  to  meet  of  an 
evenin'.  Good-bye  now  for  the  present, 
and  tell  Father  Moran  that  I  was  enquiring 
for  him,  and  be  sure  to  invite  Kathleen  up 
to  the  dance,  Ellie.  Better  for  ye  cut 
down  across  the  fields,  and  ye  can  come 
back  by  the  road." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Ellie  ;  "and  can  we 
have  Kathleen  stopping  here  for  a  few 
days  to  help  us  getting  ready  for  the 
dance  ?  " 

"  Of  course  ye  can,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neill ; 
*'  but  won't  she  be  a-tormenting  Jim  with 
all  her  philanderin'  and  questioning  him 
about  the  College  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Jim,  "  let  her  come.  She 
will  be  too  busy  to  bother  me.  Besides  I 
like  it,  and  is  she  not  one  of  ourselves 
almost  ?  " 

So  off  the  two  started,  and  they  were  not 
long  in  sauntering  down  to  the  priest's 
house,  and,  as  they  expected,  they  found 
him  at  home,  and  were  shown  into  his  little 
parlour. 

"  Welcome,  James,  my  boy,  welcome  !  " 
said  Father  Moran,  as  he  entered  the  room. 
"  And  this  is  Ellie  you  have  with  you. 
How  are  you,  my  child  ?  Sit  here  near 
the  fire.  That's  it.  Well,  James,  how  do 


CHRISTMAS  VACATION  63 

you  like  Ballyhynes  ?  Do  they  feed  ye 
well  there  now  ?  " 

"They  do,  sir." 

"  Hum  !  so  I  believe.  They  usedn't  to 
do  so  in  my  time,  but  we  managed  to  live 
through  it  all  right,  and  perhaps  we  were 
as  well  off.  You're  in  the  Senior  Humanity 
class,  I  think.  Who's  teaching  you  ?  " 

"  Father  Scanlan,  and " 

"  Poor  Tom  !  Still  at  his  classics.  You 
like  him  well  ?  " 

;t  We  all  like  him,  sir." 

"  No  wonder.  Poor  Tom  !  And  who 
else  ?  " 

"  Father  Daly,  and " 

"  Father  Daly  ?  Oh,  yes  ;  that's  the 
young  man  they  brought  in  a  few  years 
ago.  I  met  him  once,  at  poor  Father 
M'Keogh's  Office,  I  think,  God  rest  him  ! 
Who  teaches  you  mathematics  ?  " 

"  Father  M'Carthy,  sir." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course ;  that's  the  Dean, 
isn't  it.  How  do  you  like  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  so  much  as  the  others." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Father  Moran,  smiling, 
"  of  course  not,  of  course  not.  I  never  yet 
knew  a  Dean  that  was  popular  with  the 
students.  It  isn't  a  bad  sign  of  a  Dean 
either  ;  if  he  went  running  after  popularity 
he'd  very  soon  neglect  his  business,  I  should 
think.  Do  you  take  anything,  James  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  thanks." 


"  Oh,  of  course  not,  of  course  not.    That's 
right,  my  boy  ;  and  never  do  take  anything. 
There  is  no  good  in  it.     You're  for  the 
Home  Mission,  I  suppose  ?  " 
'  Yes,  Father." 

"  Magnificent !  You'll  be  chanting  the 
Miserere  over  me  yet  some  day,  if  I'm  able 
to  wait  for  you  !  Well,  well,  such  is  life 
— and  death.  My  old  parish  priest  long 
ago,  God  rest  him!  used  to  say  the  same 
thing  to  me  when  I  was  a  student ;  and  his 
words  came  to  pass  too.  Well,  James,  you 
have  a  wonderful  life  before  you.  A  good 
deal  of  trouble  in  it,  and  'tis  a  lonely  life 
too,  but  it  is  full  of  consolations.  You'll 
see  a  great  deal  of  life — and  of  death. 
You'll  have  to  prepare  yourself  well  for  it 
now,  my  boy,  during  the  years  you're  at 
college — no  young  priest  was  ever  half  well 
enough  prepared.  Well,  well,  I  wonder 
what's  keeping  Kathleen  ?  I  sent  her  out 
for  the  paper.  Hello !  that's  her  step. 
What  kept  you  so  long,  Kathleen  ?  " 

"  I  wasn't  a  minute,  uncle." 

"  'Twas  a  long  minute,  my  child." 

She  had  just  entered  the  door  by  this, 
and  was  agreeably  surprised  to  see  the 
two  visitors. 

"  Oh,  Ellie,  how  are  you  ?  Welcome 
home,  James." 

"  Sit  here  now,  Kathleen,  and  you  can  let 
your  tongue  keep  wagging  away  while  I  go 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  65 

out  in  the  hall  and  finish  my  Office,"  said 
her  uncle. 

Needless  to  say  our  little  friend  was  only 
too  delighted  to  get  such  an  opportunity 
of  catechizing  Jim.  She  immediately 
dropped  the  slight  tendency  of  bashfulness 
which  she  always  displayed  in  her  uncle's 
presence. 

"  How  are  you  at  all,  Jim  ? "  (the 
"  James"  was  dropped  with  the  bashful - 
ness).  "Do  you  simply  love  Ballyhynes  ? 
I'm  sure  you  do.  How  do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Middling  only,"  said  Jim,  rather  sheep- 
ishly. 

"  Oh,  my  goodness !  that's  awful.  I 
always  loved  the  convent  when  I  was  at 
home  on  holidays.  Why  don't  you  like 
it?" 

"  I  do  like  it  pretty  well." 

"  I'm  sure  ye  have  great  fun  in  the 
dormitory  at  night.  Boys  are  a  terror. 
Do  ye,  Jim  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Oh  !  well  what  sort  of  a  place  is  it, 
then  ?  What  have  you  to  learn  there  ?  " 

"  The  same  as  at  the  Classical  School." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 

Thus  the  time  passed  until  Father  Moran 
returned,  followed  by  the  housekeeper 
with  the  tea  things,  and  soon  the  four 
sat  around  the  table  and  partook  of  "  the 
cup  that  cheers."  Father  Moran  kept 

6 


66  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

them  in  roars  of  laughter  with  reminis- 
cences of  his  college  days,  which,  as  far  as 
Katheen  could  judge,  seemed  to  be  of  a 
far  more  exciting  nature  than  Jim's. 

After  tea  Kathleen  and  Ellie  withdrew 
to  inspect  sundry  little  possessions  of  the 
former — the  latest  additions  to  her  col- 
lections of  post-cards  and  sticky-backs, 
etc.,  and  in  that  confidential  whisper 
beloved  of  girls  Ellie  informed  her  of  the 
approaching  dance  on  St.  Stephen's  Day, 
and  of  her  mother's  request  to  invite  her. 
Needless  to  say  Kathleen  was  delighted, 
and  promised  to  come  over  two  days  before 
to  help  in  the  fixing-up,  subject,  of  course, 
to  her  uncle's  consent. 

Meanwhile  Father  Moran  was  giving 
some  sound,  if  old-fashioned,  advice  to  his 
young  parishioner.  "  Yes,  James,  it  isn't 
to  lay  down  hard  and  fast  rules  that  will 
be  sure  to  guide  you  in  every  turn  of  life, 
but  there  are  a  few  rules  that  you  can't 
get  on  without,  and  that  no  one  ever  yet 
did  get  on  without.  Whatever  you  neglect, 
don't  neglect  prayer.  Pray  always.  'Twill 
be  the  joy  of  your  life  after,  my  boy,  and 
'twill  bring  you  over  all  your  difficulties 
and  obstacles  at  present.  And  another 
thing,  never  touch  drink ;  you'll  never  feel 
the  need  of  it  if  you  don't  begin  it.  And 
one  word  more — always  keep  with  the 
crowd  when  you're  a  priest  afterwards, 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  67 

and  even  now  while  you're  a  student 
always  keep  with  the  crowd,  and  you'll 
never  find  yourself  very  far  wrong.  I'll 
leave  you  to  your  parents  on  Christmas 
Day,  but  you  must  dine  with  me  New 
Year's  Day  at  four.  Remember  me  to 
your  father  and  mother — honest  people. 
God  be  thanked  that  there  are  so  many 
like  them  yet  in  Ireland!  Let  ye  go 
around  the  road  now.  Come,  Kathleen, 
and  get  my  slippers.  Good-night,  Ellie. 
James,  don't  forget,  New  Year's  Day  at 
four.  Good-night !  " 


The  night  appointed  for  the  dance  came 
around  in  due  time,  and  the  cousins  and 
friends  of  the  O'Neill  family  began  to 
drop  in  from  about  nightfall  onwards. 
Ellie  had  been  working  hard,  but  not  half 
as  hard  as  Kathleen,  who  had  taken  on  her- 
self the  most  elaborate  part  of  the  pre- 
parations. Each  new  arrival  was  treated 
to  "  refreshments,"  the  parlour  was  cleared 
of  all  furniture  except  the  chairs,  placed 
closely  together  around  the  walls,  the 
sounds  of  a  fiddle  going  through  the  tuning 
operation  were  heard,  and  soon  the  pioneers 
of  the  dancing  had  "  taken  the  floor." 

The  rattling  of  bicycles  coming  in  the 
yard  was  heard,  and  Jim  rushed  out  to 
meet  his  friends,  Ned  Delaney  and  Joe 


68  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

O'Donnell,  who  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
hard  frost  to  cycle  over  from  home. 

"Welcome,  lads!"  exclaimed  Jim;  "I 
was  just  beginning  to  be  afraid  ye  wouldn't 
come  at  all." 

"  Oh,  never  fear  we'd  be  such  fools  as 
all  that.  How  are  you  since  ?  "  said  Joe 
as  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Well,  thanks.  How  is  the  form 
Ned  ?  " 

>    "  First  rate." 

r-  The  bicycles  were  put  into  the  barn, 
and  the  two  new  arrivals  found  themselves 
standing  in  the  kitchen,  whilst  the  sounds 
of  music  and  merry-making  resounded 
from  the  parlour.  Without  waiting  for  an 
introduction,  kindly  old  Mrs.  O'Neill  grasped 
them  warmly  by  the  hands  and  wished 
them  a  hundred  thousand  welcomes.  Old 
Ned  O'Neill  rose  slowly  from  his  seat  at 
the  corner,  and  he  also  wished  them  a 
hearty  welcome. 

"  Ye'll  have  a  small,  little  drop  of  some- 
thing," said  Mrs.  O'Neill.  "Ye  must  be 
cowld  after  the  night  out.  Ellie  is  just 
dancing,  Jim ;  but  I  am  sure  Kathleen 
will  come  and  get  something  for  the  boys 
after  their  journey." 

Kathleen  at  once  was  on  the  move,  and 
in  a  moment  Ellie,  smiling  and  heated, 
came  into  the  kitchen.  She  was  introduced 
to  the  new  arrivals,  and,  like  the  rest, 


CHRISTMAS   VACATION  69 

extended  to  them  an  Irish  welcome.  "  What 
would  they  take  ?  A  little  drop  of 
whiskey?"  "No."  "Well,  they  must 
take  a  drop  of  wine,  then,  anyhow." 

Having  partaken  moderately  of  the  prof- 
fered refreshments  Joe  and  Ned  were  taken 
into  the  parlour  and  treated  to  an  "  intro- 
duction all  round."  A  gay,  lively,  dashing 
little  company  it  was  ;  our  friends  made 
themselves  at  home  at  once.  Joe  "  took 
the  floor  "  in  the  next  set  with  Ellie,  and 
Ned  Delaney,  too,  found  himself  a  partner. 

All  night  long  the  fun  and  dancing  con- 
tinued. All  the  youngsters  were  in  the 
best  of  humour  and  enjoying  themselves 
to  their  hearts'  content.  Well,  perhaps, 
not  quite  all — Jim  O'Neill  was  no  better 
than  a  silent  spectator  ;  he  was  not  able  to 
dance,  and  no  argument,  although  Kathleen 
submitted  many,  could  induce  him  to 
"  try."  Sometimes  he  sat  in  the  parlour 
and  talked  of  Ballyhynes  to  Joe  and  Ned  ; 
sometimes  he  withdrew  to  the  kitchen 
and  endeavoured  to  persuade  his  mother 
that  he  was  enjoying  himself  thoroughly  ; 
and  at  other  times  he  insisted  on  finding 
something  or  other  to  be  done  about 
the  yard,  and  went  out  there.  Truth  to 
tell,  he  was  feeling  himself  very  much  a 
"  fish  out  of  water  "  in  the  gay  company. 
What  had  often  been  forced  on  him  since 
he  went  to  Ballyhynes — that  he  was  of  far 


70  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

different  cast  and  temperament  from  the 
majority  of  his  fellow-students — now  struck 
him  as  being  a  stern  reality.  He  was 
beginning  to  think  that  there  might  be 
something  radically  wrong  with  himself. 
There  was  Joe  O'Donnell,  who  could  get  on 
first  rate  with  professors,  prefects,  students 
and  everybody,  and  here  now — when  it 
was  the  time  and  place  for  it — he  was  able 
to  enjoy  himself  most  thoroughly.  Yes, 
that  is  the  sort  of  man  that  reaches  the 
goal  of  success — is  successful,  in  fact,  as  the 
Americans  say,  "  All  the  time."  Delaney, 
too,  could  enjoy  himself  on  the  vacation  in 
the  same  way  as  the  people  in  the  world  do, 
and  in  college  was  such  a  hard  worker  that 
he  could  hold  his  own  against  any  man, 
and  never  seem  to  be  out  of  humour  either. 
It  was  a  mighty  riddle,  and  Jim  could  not 
understand  it  at  all.  One  thing  only  was 
he  certain  of — that  he  himself  was  a  far 
poorer  candidate  for  the  Church,  or,  indeed, 
would  be  for  anything  else,  than  his  ver- 
satile friends. 

At  last  the  dawn  broke  and  the  little  com- 
pany began  to  dissolve.  Joe  and  Ned  were 
to  remain  until  evening,  and  in  the  mean- 
time go  to  bed  and  refresh  themselves 
before  their  homeward  journey.  Everyone 
had  voted  O'Donnell  a  real  nice  fellow, 
and  Ellie  and  himself,  in  particular,  had 
become  very  fast  friends. 


DARKNESS   ON   THE   HORIZON  7l 

A  few  days  after  the  dance  Ellie  and 
Kathleen  were  discussing  the  whole  affair, 
and  voted  Joe  and  Ned  two  very  nice 
fellows. 

"  But  Jim  is  awfully  quiet,"  said  Ellie ; 
"  he's  too  quiet  entirely." 

"Still  I'd  rather  have  Jim— I  don't 
know  why — than  any  of  them,"  said 
Kathleen. 

In  due  time  Jim  paid  his  return  visits  to 
his  friends,  but,  needless  to  say,  he  never 
indulged  in  the  "light  fantastic."  Almost 
before  they  realized  it  the  vacation  had 
flown  by,  and  the  time  for  returning  to 
Ballyhynes  was  at  hand.  Everything  in 
this  world  is  fleeting,  but  nothing  so  much 
so  as  the  Christmas  vacation. 


CHAPTER  VI 

DARKNESS   ON   THE   HORIZON 

THUS  Christmas  vacation  had  come  and 
gone,  only  the  memory  remained.  A  few 
days  home-sickness  followed,  and  it,  too, 
had  disappeared  and  had  scarce  left  a 
trace.  Things  at  Ballyhynes  had  got  back 
into  their  old  groove — the  old  games,  the 
old  talks,  the  old  lessons,  and  (at  least 
for  our  hero)  the  old  ambitions.  He  had 
come  back  more  than  ever  determined  to 


72  THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

devote  himself  strenuously  to  the  work 
of  the  Seminary,  with  a  view  to  fitting 
himself  to  be  one  day  a  worthy  priest 
of  the  Church  of  God.  He  did  not  like 
study  for  its  own  sake ;  he  was  somewhat 
slow  at  gaining  knowledge,  but  he  had 
sense  enough  to  know  that  if  it  had  to  be 
done  at  all  it  must  be  done  energetically. 

O'Neill  was  not  one  of  those  characters 
who  specially  require  encouragement  in 
their  efforts  to  learn.  But  he  was  human, 
and  was  therefore  capable  of  being  dis- 
couraged when  his  efforts  were  wholly 
unrecognized  by  his  master ;  and,  if  truth 
must  be  told,  that  was  the  case  with  the 
Dean,  who  taught  him  the  subject  in 
which  he  found  the  most  difficulty.  This 
was  more  or  less  an  understood  thing,  and 
was  sometimes  the  subject  of  conversa- 
tion among  the  boys,  as  on  the  evening 
before  Shrove  Tuesday  after  their  return, 
when  the  three  chums  were  taking  their 
usual  walk  round  the  space  known  univer- 
sally as  "  the  ring." 

"  Thanks  be  to  God  that  to-morrow  is 
a  free  day  anyhow,"  said  O'Donnell, 
"  I'm  sick  of  this  class,  class,  class." 

"  If  Neddy  had  the  set  on  you  in  his 
Mathematics  class  that  he  has  on  me 
you'd  have  reason  to  talk,"  said  O'Neill. 
(We  may  explain  that  "  Neddy "  was 
the  name  by  which  the  Dean,  Father 


DARKNESS   ON   THE   HORIZON  73 

M'Carthy,  was  familiarly  known  amongst 
the  students.) 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  in  the  world  why 
ye  talk  that  way  about  class,"  said  Delaney. 
"  What  would  ye  say  if  ye  were  in  our 
class  ?  Everyone  knows  that  Rhetoric  is 
the  hardest  class  in  the  house." 

"Yes,  that's  all  very  well,  Ned,"  said 
O'Donnell,  "  but  'tis  quite  true  for  O'Neill 
about  Neddy.  He's  very  hard  on  him — 
not  but  that  he's  fairly  hard  on  everyone, 
but  he's  terribly  hard  on  Jim.  There  is 
no  reason  at  all  in  the  way  he  '  goes  for 
him  '  sometimes." 

"  And  there  isn't  any  subject  we  have," 
said  Jim,  "  that  I  give  so  much  time  to 
as  the  mathematics.  I  often  spent  the 
whole  evening  in  the  study  hall  at  it,  and 
the  very  minute  he  called  me  the  next 
morning  he  stuck  me." 

"  What  do  you  find  so  desperately  hard 
about  it  ?  "  said  Delaney. 

"  Oh  !  those  old  factors  in  the  algebra 
— I  can't  think  of  them  at  all.  As  for  the 
geometry,  I  can  make  up  the  propositions 
all  right,  and  I  always  know  them  ;  but  he 
gives  me  all  '  cuts,'  and  sticks  me.  The 
worst  of  it  is  that  he  thinks  I  don't  study 
for  his  class  at  all." 

"  Can't  you  tell  him  you  do  ? "  said 
Delaney. 

"  I  do  always,  when  he  asks  me.     But 


74  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

what  good  is  it  ?  he  doesn't  believe  me 
when  I  can't  do  the  exercises  he  gives 
me." 

"  He'll  probably  report  you  to  the 
Council  for  it  in  summer ;  but  you  can 
take  good  care  to  let  them  see  that  you 
did  study  mathematics." 

"  He'll  report  me  surely,  and  of  course 
I'll  tell  them  I  did  study,  and  hard,  too, 
but  how  will  they  believe " 

"Ah!  look  here,"  said  O'Donnell, 
"  we'll  say  *  transeat.'  I  think  we  have 
had  quite  enough  of  class  for  a  free 
evening,  and  the  eve  of  a  free  day.  Come 
into  the  recreation  hall ;  most  of  the 
juniors  are  gone  in  there." 

The  three  went  in  together  to  the  recrea- 
tion hall,  where  a  jovial  crowd  of  the  juniors 
were  engaged  in  story-telling,  or  rather 
listening  to  Muldoon's  stories,  whilst  in 
various  corners  of  the  hall  there  were 
little  groups  of  three  or  four  chatting  or 
singing  snatches  of  songs.  Muldoon  was 
the  centre  of  an  admiring  audience,  and 
was  "  giving  out  "  in  great  style. 

"  Hello  !  boys,"  said  he,  when  he  saw 
the  latest  arrivals ;  "  ye're  just  in  time 
for  the  passing  of  a  new  Act  of  Parliament 
that  I  drew  up  with  the  help  of  my 
learned  friends  here  present.  Its  object 
is  to  raise  a  pension  fund  for  musicians 
in  general  and  concertina-players  in  par- 


DARKNESS    ON  THE    HORIZON  75 

ticular."  In  that  strain  Muldoon  rattled 
on,  and  our  friends  having  joined  the 
audience,  laughed  as  heartily  at  his 
absurdities  as  the  rest,  until  all  thoughts 
of  "  class,  class,  class "  were  happily 
dispelled. 

But  not  even  Muldoon's  buffoonery 
could  hold  them  for  ever,  and  by  degrees 
they  began  to  break  up  into  new  groups. 
Joe  O'Donnell  went  over  to  talk  with 
Murphy,  Jim  found  himself  alone  with 
Delaney,  who  said  he  wondered  why 
O'Donnell  could  not  stick  to  his  own  set. 

''Well,"  said  O'Neill,  "Murphy  is  the 
makings  of  a  fine  fellow  anyhow,  and  if 
only  he  would  teach  O'Donnell  to  hurl 
like  himself  it  would  be  a  great  thing. 
Shall  we  not  be  expecting  a  challenge 
soon  from  the  seniors  for  a  re-play  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Jim ;  by  the  way,  next  year 
when  we  are  in  Rhetoric  you  will  be  the 
captain  of  the  juniors,  I  hope.  I  think 
every  one  of  them  will  admit  that  you 
are  the  best  of  the  lot  of  them.  Of  course, 
I  shall  be  in  the  seniors,  so  it  won't  matter 
to  me." 

"Well,  I  don't  think  they  will  elect 
me,  anyhow." 

"Why,"  said  Delaney,  "won't  they 
want  a  good  leader  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  my  doubts ;  but  here  is 
Murphy  coming  over  to  speak  to  us." 


76  THE    MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

It  would  almost  seem  as  though  Jack 
knew  what  they  were  talking  about, 
because  he  came  straight  up  to  Jim  O'Neill 
and  said  laughingly  : 

"  Look  here,  Jim,  you  have  got  to 
captain  us ;  it  would  be  our  only  chance." 

"  All  right,  I'll  count  on  your  vote, 
youngster,"  said  Jim  drily,  as  though  it 
was  a  matter  of  complete  indifference 
to  him. 

The  bell  now  sounded,  and  recreation 
came  to  an  end. 


Thus  the  school-year  was  passed,  nothing 
very  strange  happening.  Jim  had  settled 
down  to  the  life  of  a  student ;  there  was 
nothing  in  it  that  repelled  him  strongly, 
and  yet  he  felt  sometimes  a  heaviness  as 
though  he  were  not  in  his  right  element. 
The  novelty  had  gone,  and  with  it  some 
of  the  glamour  which  at  first  had  at- 
tracted him  to  the  ecclesiastical  life.  The 
reader  will  hardly  need  to  be  told  that 
he  was  by  no  means  imaginative,  that 
he  was,  in  fact,  rather  a  hard-headed  boy 
on  the  whole,  although  thoughtful  in  his 
way,  anxious  to  do  the  right  thing,  and 
quietly  ambitious  to  excel. 

Had  Jim  been  asked  to  specify  what 
were  his  difficulties  about  his  vocation, 
he  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  do 


DARKNESS    ON   THE   HORIZON  77 

so.  It  is  true  that  he  had  at  no  time 
taken  it  absolutely  for  granted  that  he 
would  succeed  in  the  career  of  his  choice, 
or  even  that  he  certainly  had  a  vocation. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  never  really  wavered 
in  the  wish  to  be  a  priest.  But  when  he 
found  things  went  badly  with  him,  some- 
times regarding  his  studies,  at  other  times 
regarding  his  devotional  life,  or  again  in 
his  relations  to  other  people,  it  was  not 
wonderful  that  he  found  doubts  rising  in 
his  mind,  nor  that  he  was^at  a  loss  how 
to  combat  the  feelings  of  darkness  and  de- 
pression with  which  he  found  himself  beset. 

His  passages  with  the  Dean^over  the 
Mathematical  class  were  the  least  part 
of  his  troubles,  and  as  this  afforded  subject 
for  merriment  among  his  companions,  he 
could  have  endured  it  well  enough ;  but 
though  he  liked  his  companions  he 
was  not  really  as  much  at  home  with 
them  as  it  appeared  on  the  surface. 
Perhaps  it  was  that  they  seemed  to  take 
their  fate  so  lightly,  or  again  that  he  com- 
pared himself  with  them  unfavourably 
because  they  seemed  to  have  hardly  any 
of  the  difficulties  which  pressed  heavily 
upon  his  own  mind. 

After  all,  these  were  but  passing  clouds  ; 
but  did  they  portend  anything  more 
serious  in  the  future  ? 


78  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O  NEILL 

Another  September  had  come  around. 
The  long,  glorious  summer  holidays  were 
over,  and  the  students  had  returned  to 
Ballyhynes  once  again.  Jim  O'Neill  and 
Joe  O'Donnell  were  now  Rhetoricians, 
and  Ned  Delaney,  being  a  "  First  Philo- 
sopher," had  passed  on  from  the  junior 
division.  By  order  of  the  Disciplinary 
Council  the  "conorizing"  had  been  stamped 
out,  and  for  ever  more  any  attempt  at 
the  old  game  of  making  the  new  men  sing, 
etc.,  was  to  be  treated  as  quite  a  serious 
offence.  It  is  hard  to  break  old  customs, 
and  the  new  rule  was  regarded  as  an  act 
of  nothing  less  than  tyranny !  One 
result  of  the  discontinuance  of  the  old 
custom  was  that  far  more  importance 
than  usual  was  attached  to  the  election 
for  Captain  of  Games  for  the  coming 
year,  for  it  was  now  the  only  "  big  "  event 
taking  place  at  the  opening  of  the  year. 
Once  the  retreat  was  over  it  was  the  one 
subject  of  conversation  amongst  the  juniors. 

Jim  O'Neill  had  naturally  taken  it  for 
granted  that  he  would  obtain  this  post 
of  honour,  and  amongst  his  immediate 
friends  his  chance  of  success  was  also 
favourably  regarded.  Hurling,  as  we  said 
before,  was  the  chief  game  at  Ballyhynes 
in  recent  years,  and  in  the  hurling  field 
the  juniors  had  done  remarkably  well 
during  _the  last  year.  The  seniors  were 


DARKNESS    ON   THE^  HORIZON  79 

already  burning  to  avenge  their  defeat 
on  the  memorable  first  Sunday  in  Decem- 
ber of  the  previous  year,  so  they  had  sent  a 
challenge  to  the  juniors  to  try  conclusions 
on  St.  Patrick's  Day.  This  turned  out 
again  a  classical  match,  and  was  as  sternly 
contested  as  if  it  were  between  the  selected 
teams  of  two  rival  provinces  for  the 
Championship  of  Ireland !  Amongst  the 
spectators  party  feeling  ran  very  high, 
and  the  juniors  in  particular  cheered 
themselves  hoarse  for  their  representatives 
on  the  field.  Again  Jim  O'Neill  was  the 
hero  of  the  hour  :  time  and  again  the  dashing 
senior  forwards  charged  the  juniors'  posts, 
but  Jim  was  a  tower  of  strength  in  the 
back,  and  managed  to  repel  their  attacks 
well  nigh  two  dozen  times.  They  slashed 
their  way  through  a  few  times,  but  the 
junior  forwards,  especially  Jack  Murphy, 
were  not  idle,  and  when  the  final  whistle 
sounded  again  the  Juniors  were  victors 
once  more,  and  on  a  far  larger  score  than 
on  the  previous  occasion.  They  had 
beaten  the  seniors  by  two  goals  and  six 
points  to  one  goal  and  two  points  ! 

Jim  O'Neill  was  looked  on  by  his  fellow- 
juniors  as  the  very  beau  ideal  of  a  hurler, 
and  on  the  field  he  was  regarded  by  the 
team  as  their  real  leader  and  their  hope. 
His  services  in  December  and  on  St. 
Patrick's  Day  were  not  likely  to  be  soon 


80  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

forgotten,  and  in  a  few  days  time  the 
election  for  "  official "  captain  of  the 
division  for  the  coming  year  was  to  take 
place.  Jim,  not  without  reason,  was  very 
sanguine  about  the  result.  Yet  he  knew 
that  he  was  not  really  popular  with  the 
boys  at  large,  and  he  felt  this  perhaps 
rather  too  deeply,  for  in  spite  of  a  cold 
exterior,  he  was  really  of  a  sympathetic 
nature.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  his 
election  would  be  opposed,  but  he  did  not 
know  whether  the  opposition  would  be 
serious  or  not. 

The  night  of  the  election  came  around. 
The  juniors  assembled  in  the  recreation 
hall,  and  amidst  much  merriment  Muldoon 
was  voted  to  the  chair.  Amongst  the 
laughing  assembly  there  was  one  man 
deadly  serious.  It  was  Jim  O'Neill.  The 
goal  of  his  ambition  was  within  his  reach, 
and  he  could  not  restrain  his  emotion. 
His  perturbation  did  not  pass  unnoticed, 
and  perhaps  it  influenced  some  of  the 
voters.  All  this  world  is  made  up  of 
trifles,  and  it  is  a  very  small  thing  that 
sometimes  converts  defeat  into  success 
— or  very  probably  success  into  defeat. 
One  thing  at  least  is  certain,  that  in  an 
ecclesiastical  college  the  man  who  is 
known  to  covet  honours  in  the  privilege  of 
the  students  (to  bestow  as  a  rule  does 
not  get  them. 


DARKNESS  ON  THE  HORIZON  81 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Muldoon,  "  you  all 
know  the  importance  of  the  occasion  for 
which  you  are  assembled.  There  is  a 
vacancy  for  a  Prime  Minister,  I  think " 
(cries of  "Chuck  it,  Jim") — "no,  a  Captain 
of  the  Games,  I  believe  it  is.  The  election 
will  be  by  ballot.  You  will  now  please 
appoint  two  gentlemen  of  probity  and 
unquestionable  honour  to  assist  me  in 
the  counting  of  the  votes."  (The  two  were 
appointed.)  "  And  now,  gentlemen,  with- 
out saying  any  more  I  will  call  on  the 
free  and  independent  voters  of  the  Junior 
Division  of  Ballyhynes  to  write  the  name 
of  the  student  they  think  best  fitted  to 
fill  that  responsible  position.  The  votes 
will  be  counted  by  your  humble  servant 
and  his  curates ' '  (loud  laughter),  "  and  who- 
ever will  obtain  the  greatest  number  will  be 
our  captain  for  the  coming  year ;  the  man 
obtaining  the  next  greatest  number  will 
be  vice-captain,  and  the  rest  '  also  ran.' 

"I  hope  you  will  understand  me  now, 
gentlemen,  and  understand  the  rules  and 
regulations."  (Cries of  "We do,"  "We do.") 
"Write  the  names  on  a  slip  of  paper, 
and  my  curates  will  collect  them." 
(Cries  of  "Vote,"  "vote.")  "Gentlemen," 
said  Muldoon,  in  a  mock  angry  tone, 
"  is  that  the  way  ye're  going  to  treat 
me — not  to  let  me  finish  a  speech?" 
(Cries  of  "  What  more  have  you  to  say  ?  ") 

7 


82  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

"  Gentlemen,  did  ye  ever  yet  hear  a  great 
man  making  a  speech  at  a  meeting  without 
winding  up  by  saying  he  hoped  we'd  all 
live  till  we  see  the  green  flag  flying  over 
the  old  house  in  College  Green  ?  "  (Cries 
of  "  Come  down,  Muldoon,  the  Member  for 
Blarney,"  etc.) 

Quickly  the  votes  were  recorded,  and 
quickly  the  slips  were  collected ;  but  the 
counting  process  was  fairly  slow.  At  last, 
amidst  dead  silence,  Muldoon  stood  up 
to  announce  the  result.  It  was  as  follows  : 

JOSEPH  O'DONNELL  . .     Eighteen 
PAT  GILHOOLY  . .     Ten 

"Mr.  James  O'Neill  got  six  votes,"  said 
Muldoon,  "  and  about  half  the  rest  of 
the  division  got  a  vote  each — from  some 
very  near  and  dear  friend." 

There  was  considerable  rejoicing  at  the 
result,  why  it  would  be  hard  to  explain. 
Joe  O'Donnell  was  almost  universally  con- 
gratulated, and  Jim,  who  was  too  proud 
to  show  that  he  felt  his  defeat,  at  once 
took  his  friend  by  the  hand  and  warmly 
shook  it.  Yet  he  could  not  entirely 
conceal  his  disappointment. 

This  little  incident  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  his  taking  an  important  reso- 
lution. After  it  was  over  he  felt  doubly 
annoyed,  far  more  annoyed  with  himself 
than  with  his  school-fellows.  They  had 


THE  LIFTING  OF  THE  CLOUD  83 

undoubtedly  slighted  him,  but  they  had 
only  exercised  their  rights,  and  why  should 
he  care  ?  What  did  it  matter  to  him 
whether  they  were  satisfied  with  him  so 
long  as  he  was  satisfied  with  himself  ? 
But  was  he  ?  That  was  really  the  rub. 
Anyhow,  he  decided  that,  as  he  had 
long  doubted  whether  he  was  or  was  not  in 
his  wrong  element,  he  would  now  bring 
matters  to  a  head.  He  would  take  advice 
about  his  vocation,  and  he  would  go  to 
the  one  who,  as  he  thought,  had  most 
right  to  help  him  in  his  difficulties,  one 
for  whom  he  had  always  felt  a  strong 
attraction,  the  President  of  the  College. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   LIFTING   OF  THE   CLOUD 

FATHER  NOLAN  was  an  approachable  man, 
and  though  on  account  of  his  position  of 
external  authority  he  preferred  not  to 
hear  confessions,  he  was  always  delighted 
to  be  consulted  as  a  friend,  and  seldom 
did  he  send  a  boy  away  without  some 
solid  encouragement  as  well  as  fatherly 
advice.  Being  himself  above  all  things 
a  man  of  prayer,  he  knew  wherein  lay  the 
best  remedy  for  any  students  who  told 


84  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

him  of  their  difficulties  and  all  the  secrets 
of  their  hearts. 

He  was  particularly  pleased  to  see  Jim 
coming  to  his  room  for  a  private  talk. 
He  had  never  been  quite  able  to  under- 
stand him  ;  now  he  found  him  manly  and 
earnest,  and  exceptionally  intelligent  in 
all  that  regarded  his  vocation. 

In  speaking  to  the  President,  at  first, 
Jim  hesitated  to  bring  in  the  subject  of 
his  late  rebuff,  and  when  he  did  describe 
his  feelings  about  it,  he  was  careful  to 
tell  the  President  that  this  was  not  the 
real  cause  of  his  misgivings,  but  merely, 
so  to  say,  the  "  last  straw  upon  the 
camel's  back." 

Father  Nolan  smiled  and  said,  "  Oh,  no, 
Mr.  O'Neill,  I  am  quite  sure  your  heart 
is  not  really  set  on  trifles,  but  you  must 
be  careful  to  clear  up  these  ideas  of  yours, 
and  especially  to  consider  what  the  motives 
are  which  are  causing  you  to  hesitate 
about  your  future." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  want  to  know  have  I  a 
vocation  at  all  ?  If  you  can  tell  me  that, 
I  think  I  shall  know  how  to  go  on  all 
right." 

"  No,  I  cannot  tell  you  that,  as  I  don't 
happen  to  be  inspired,  but  perhaps  I  can 
help  you  to  find  out  for  yourself." 

"  I  am  almost  sure  the  Dean  thinks  I 
have  none." 


THE  LIFTING  OF  THE  CLOUD  85 

"  Well,  don't  mind  the  Dean  ;  he  is  not 
inspired  either,  at  least  so  far  as  I  have 
any  information,"  said  the  President, 
almost  laughing  this  time. 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  then  ?"  said  Jim,  "  I 
often  don't  feel  as  though  I  shall  succeed." 

"  Ah  !  there  is  your  grand  mistake,  my 
young  friend  !  Now  I  think  I  can  show 
you  a  sign-post  on  the  road,  the  Royal 
Road,  a  Kempis  calls  it.  You  are  troubling 
about  your  feelings,  whereas  they  have 
nothing,  or  very  little,  to  do  with  the 
question.  Your  vocation  is  to  be  decided 
ultimately  by  your  will,  not  by  your 
feelings.  In  future,  don't  say,  '  Do  I 
feel  as  though  I  could  or  I  could  not  be 
a  priest  ?  '  but  '  Do  I  will  in  my  heart  of 
hearts  to  be  a  priest  ?  '  Pray  moderately 
hard  for  light,  don't  be  in  a  hurry  about 
deciding,  and  come  and  see  me  again  in 
a  month's  time.  Meanwhile  be  a  man, 
before  all  things  a  man.  Remember  after 
God  your  fate  is  wholly  and  entirely  in 
your  own  hands.  It  depends  not  on  me, 
certainly  not  on  the  Dean,  nor  011  your 
fellow- juniors.  You  are  not  wanting  in 
essential  courage,  James  O'Neill,  but  many 
a  student  has  to  call  on  his  courage  sooner 
or  later.  I  am  glad  you  have  difficulties  ; 
don't  be  frightened  at  them,  and  don't 
shirk  them ;  but  always  and  before  all 
things  be  a  man!" 


86  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

Jim  went  away  still  puzzled,  but  on  the 
whole  with  a  somewhat  lighter  heart,  and 
with  a  renewed  determination  to  study 
hard  and  not  trouble  about  the  Dean  ! 
After  the  second  interview,  in  which  he 
got  much  the  same  advice  again,  he  really 
felt  grateful  to  Father  Nolan  for  his  help  ; 
and  if  he  could  not  understand  it  all,  he 
took  in  one  thing  quite  clearly,  and  that 
was  that  he  should  try  to  go  on  as  happily 
as  possible,  and  leave  the  future  to  take 
care  of  itself.  If  he  was  true  to  grace, 
in  good  time  Providence  would  give  him 
clearer  light  as  to  his  proper  destination. 


It  was  not  long  before  the  light  came. 
In  the  retreat  of  the  following  year  again 
it  happened  that  the  Missioner  made  an 
appeal  to  his  youthful  hearers  which 
stirred  a  chord  in  Jim's  deepest  nature. 
He  spoke  to  them  of  the  grandeur  and 
the  delight  of  devoting  oneself  to  the 
salvation  of  human  beings  in  this  world 
and  the  next.  He  also  went  on  to  praise 
the  lot  of  those  priests  who  left  home  and 
kindred  and  country  to  seek  out  abandoned 
souls  in  far-distant  and  sacrificial  missions. 
This  topic  was  quite  in  place  at  Bally- 
hynes,  because  in  the  College  there  had 
always  been  a  number  of  students  who 
were  destined  for  work  in  foreign  countries. 


THE  LIFTING  OF  THE  CLOUD  87 

As,  however,  such  candidates  were  usually 
in  such  a  position  for  pecuniary  reasons, 
because,  in  fact,  their  pensions  were  wholly 
or  partially  defrayed  by  foreign  burses, 
their  prospects  were  not  envied  by  those 
who,  like  Jim  O'Neill,  were  being  educated, 
often  at  considerable  sacrifice,  by  their 
own  parents  or  immediate  relatives. 

Hence  the  words  of  the  Missioner  did 
not  find  in  Jim  O'Neill  a  hearer  who  was 
at  first  disposed  to  apply  them  literally 
to  himself.  He  had  never  felt  specially 
drawn  to  any  such  plan  of  life,  nor  could 
he  say  how  it  was  that  by  degrees  the 
idea  seemed  to  possess  his  mind  as 
strongly  as  it  did.  What  really  struck 
him  was  the  contrast  between  a  purely 
supernatural  "  vocation "  to  a  life  of 
zeal  and  self-effacement,  and  the  ordinary 
view  of  the  priesthood  held  by  himself 
and  his  companions,  in  which  somehow 
the  supernatural  motives  seemed  to  be 
blurred  by  a  natural  (though  quite  laudable) 
desire  to  succeed  in  the  state  of  life  to 
which  they  had  a  heavenly  call,  as  they 
believed  honestly,  no  doubt. 

At  first  Jim  found  that  he  was  merely 
debating  with  himself  conditionally  the 
notion  of  offering  to  "go  foreign  "  as  it 
was  called  by  the  students.  "  If,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  my  view  of  a  vocation 
had  been  like  that  of  the  Missioner,  would 


88  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

I  have  had  all  the  trouble  about  it  ? 
Certainly  I  might  not  have  found  it  pleasing 
to  my  feelings  (as  the  President  put  it), 
but  would  it  not  be  a  simpler  problem  to 
lay  before  my  will  ? "  Perhaps  in  this 
Jim  may  have  had  a  correct  instinct,  for 
is  it  not  easier  to  choose  between  ex- 
tremes than  between  one  extreme  and  a 
middle  course  ? 

There  was  no  reason  for  any  immediate 
decision,  and  he  remembered  the  great 
stress  Father  Nolan  had  laid  upon  his 
not  being  in  a  hurry  in  coming  to  any 
conclusion  about  his  future.  But  when 
once  the  good  seed  enters  an  honest  mind, 
the  longer  it  remains,  the  more  chance 
it  has  of  germinating  and  later  on  of 
bearing  fruit. 

So  the  time  elapsed,  and  the  summer 
vacation  was  again  approaching  before 
Jim  had  got  to  the  end  of  his  difficulties, 
and  had  finally  settled  down  to  any 
definite  ambition.  And  he  intended  when 
he  should  reach  Glenroe  not  to  give  any 
hint  of  his  new  ideas  before  he  should 
know  his  own  mind  better  on  the  subject. 
But  in  this,  as  the  reader  will  learn  soon, 
he  reckoned  without  his  host.  Jim,  of 
course,  always  got  a  great  welcome  on 
returning,  and  this  time  he  found  things 
much  as  usual.  There  were,  however, 
some  points  which  he  noticed  at  once. 


THE  LIFTING  OF  THE  CLOUD  89 

The  brothers  were  all  growing  visibly 
bigger ;  Conn  was  now  going  fourteen, 
and  would  be  soon  ready  to  leave  school. 
Times  were  not  very  favourable  for  farmers, 
and  owing  to  a  dry  spring  the  hay-crop 
at  Glenroe  was  light,  which  would  come 
against  the  stores.  Mrs.  O'Neill  had  been 
suffering  from  some  affection  of  the  legs, 
which  made  it  difficult  for  her  to  get 
about.  Yet  everything  was  bright  and 
trim,  and  the  reason  was  not  far  to  seek. 
Kathleen  Mara,  who  had  always  called  her- 
self Mrs.  O'Neill's  second  daughter,  was 
so  often  at  Glenroe  that  she  seemed  almost 
to  have  taken  up  her  abode  there  as  a 
member  of  the  family.  She  was  now 
grown  into  a  fine  type  of  an  Irish  maiden, 
still  full  of  fun,  but  one  who  absolutely 
revelled  in  hard  work,  and  in  this  she 
was  the  very  opposite  of  her  adopted  sister. 
Ellie,  did  not  like  looking  after  the  boys, 
whereas  Kathleen  took  great  delight  in 
all  three  of  them,  and  was  in  turn  the 
object  of  their  enthusiastic  idolatry.  In 
fact,  she  already  dominated  the  house 
without  offending  anyone,  and  Jim  would 
be  the  very  last  to  take  offence  at  it. 
For  the  girl  still  took  the  utmost  interest 
in  everything  concerning  him  and  his 
college  life,  though  she  showed  a  more 
decided  reverence  for  him  now  than  she 
had  done  in  her  "tomboy"  days,  when 


90  THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

first  you,  gentle  reader,  made  her  ac- 
quaintance. 

Jim  had  been  hardly  twenty-four  hours 
in  the  house  before  Kathleen  discovered 
that  there  was  something  wrong  with  him, 
as  she  thought ;  and  as  promptly  she 
determined  to  have  it  out.  This  was  not 
wanton  curiosity  on  her  part,  but  she 
knew  he  was  inclined  to  be  reserved  with 
others,  and  she  thought  if  there  was 
anything  troubling  him,  it  might  be  better 
for  her  to  discover  it  than  his  mother, 
whose  health  was  really  poor,  and  who 
would  worry  herself  to  death  about  Jim 
and  his  vocation. 

And  after  all  the  poor  boy  was  not  sorry 
to  get  a  little  sympathy,  which  was  offered 
with  tact  and  discretion,  and  as  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world.  Of  course  he 
could  not  fully  explain  his  mind,  for  he 
did  not  understand  it  himself.  Still  he 
soon  let  her  find  out  what  he  was  thinking 
of,  and  he  told  her  what  was  true,  that  a 
good  many  of  the  students  at  Bally- 
hynes  were  going  to  take  foreign  missions, 
and,  he  added  (what  was  also  true),  that 
it  would  save  his  parents  a  lot  of  expense, 
and  that  on  the  whole  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  for  the  family. 

At  this  Kathleen  stopped  him  roughly. 
"  What  1  "  said  she,  "  do  you  think  we 
are  all  like  that ! "  (taking  it  for  granted 


THE  LIFTING  OF  THE  CLOUD  91 

that  she  was  included  in  those  who  would 
benefit  by  the  proffered  act  of  self-denial). 
"Don't  you  know,  Jim,  your  father  and 
mother  would  starve  themselves  to  keep 
you  at  home,  if  it  were  necessary  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "I  don't  think  it 
will  be  quite  as  bad  as  that ;  but  money 
is  money,  and  there  are  others  besides 
me  to  look  after." 

"  Oh  !  botheration,  what  sort  of  a  boy 
are  ye  at  all,  at  all  ?  Is  not  Ireland 
big  enough  for  ye,  and  holy  enough,  that 
ye  must  get  these  outlandish  notions — 
and  you  are  only  a  slip  of  a  lad  yet,  Jim. 
Do  try  and  be  sensible  !  " 

"All  right,  I'll  try;  but,  look  here, 
Kathleen,  you  will  not  go  and  talk  to 
mother  about  me  ?  Promise  me  like  a 
dear  girl." 

"  Oh  !  no,  Jim,  it  would  be  the  death 
of  her  to  think  of  you  being  turned  out 
like.  But  I  shall  go  to  my  uncle,  the 
parish  priest,  and  ask  him  to  give  you 
some  good  advice,  and  put  an  end  to 
your  nonsense  once  for  all.  That  is, 
unless  you  will  go  and  tell  him  yourself. 
It  would  be  the  best  way,  I  think." 

"  That  is  the  best  suggestion  you  have 
made  yet.  Of  course  I'll  have  to  go  and 
see  him  as  usual,  and  I  will  tell  him  every- 
thing with  pleasure.  He  is  just  as  good 
as  the  President,  and  nearly  as  holy  too." 


92  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

"  And  tell  him,  Jim,  that  he  is  not  to 
upset  Mrs.  O'Neill  by  letting  her  know 
a  word  about  it.  Though,  somehow,  I 
feel  sure  she  will  find  it  out,  and  your 
father  too.  But  I'll  never  tell  them ;  you 
can  trust  me  for  that,  anyhow." 

"  All  right,  Kathleen,  when  you  say  a 
thing  I  know  you  mean  it,  and  I  wish 
there  was  more  like  you  in  that  way." 

The  girl,  however,  was  right  in  her  guess 
about  Mrs.  O'Neill.  No  one  can  account 
for  a  mother's  instincts,  and  somehow  she 
scented  a  secret,  so  both  the  confederates 
were  relieved  when  they  found  that  she 
did  not  take  it  very  seriously.  She  went 
to  the  old  priest  in  her  turn,  and  they 
both  treated  the  whole  thing  as  a  sort 
of  boyish  freak,  a  kind  of  summer  mad- 
ness, which  would  work  itself  out  and 
leave  Jim  a  good  solid  candidate  for  the 
honours  of  the  home  mission. 

Father  Moran  said,  moreover,  that  he 
never  knew  a  student  who  had  not  at  some 
time  some  wild  ideas  about  his  vocation, 
and  he  impressed  it  on  Jim  that  he  must 
grow  more  sensible  as  he  grew  older, 
and  that  if  he  will  mind  his  spiritual  duties 
and  study  hard,  he  is  sure  to  turn  out  a 
credit  to  his  family  and  his  parish. 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  Jim  returned 
to  Ballyhynes  still  a  little  dazed  in  mind, 
but  in  a  quiet  frame  of  mind  and  very 


AFTER   THREE   YEARS  93 

distrustful  of  his  own  wisdom.  Things 
must  still  wait,  and  no  doubt  they  will 
come  right. 


AFTER   THREE   YEARS 

FOR  the  space  of  about  three  years  more 
the  making  of  Jim  O'Neill  proceeded 
smoothly.  Term  and  vacation,  and  then 
term  again,  had  followed  each  other  with 
surprising  regularity,  and  the  time  had 
gone  by  quickly  enough.  When  we  resume 
the  thread  of  our  story,  most  of  our  friends 
were  well  on  in  their  second  year  of 
Theology — having  two  more  years  to 
complete  their  "  making,"  and  arrange 
for  a  debut  upon  a  larger  stage  than  that 
of  Ballyhynes. 

There  was  no  great  difference  to  be 
discerned  in  the  boys,  except  the  great 
one  that,  strictly  speaking,  they  were  boys 
no  longer.  Jim's  ideas  were  more  formed, 
his  outlook  was  a  little  larger,  and  he  was 
a  shade  less  angular  in  his  dealings  with 
his  companions,  and  had  fallen  more  into 
their  ways.  Yet  he  still  retained  some 
of  his  prejudices,  and  could  never  be 
persuaded  to  light  a  pipe  or  join  in  a 
real  old  half -hour's  "sport." 


94  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

He  was  not  of  late  disposed  to  worry 
himself  with  doubts  about  the  reality  of 
his  vocation.  He  was  quite  true  to  his 
original  resolution  to  persevere  if  he  could, 
and  yet  on  no  account  to  become  a  priest 
if  he  was  not  sure  of  his  ground.  The 
question  of  the  foreign  mission  had  never 
been  quite  cleared  up.  It  still  haunted  him 
as  a  ghost  at  the  back  of  his  mind,  and 
as  the  time  for  finally  choosing  his  mission 
was  drawing  nearer,  he  was  sure  that  at 
any  moment  he  might  have  to  face  a 
very  disagreeable  alternative — that  of  giving 
up,  or  of  taking  a  very  painful  resolution. 

Though  the  question  was  not  openly 
debated  at  Glenroe,  Jim  felt  that  his 
mother  was  as  apprehensive  about  the 
subject  as  he  was  himself,  whenever  his 
mind  happened  to  dwell  upon  such  things. 
This  had  been  chiefly  at  time  of  retreat, 
but  sometimes  also  during  the  year, 
especially  after  going  to  the  altar. 

Mrs.  O'Neill's  delicacy  had  increased  of 
late,  and  that  was  one  reason  why  he 
feared  it  would  be  nearly  impossible  for 
him  to  think  of  going  abroad,  for  the 
present  at  least. 

He  little  knew  that  events  were  about 
to  happen  which  would  bring  him  face 
to  face  with  his  old  difficulties  in  a  far 
more  intense  form  than  anything  he  had 
yet  experienced. 


AFTER   THREE   YEARS  95 

Life  in  a  seminary  is  never  very  lively, 
and  it  gets  more  monotonous  and  dull  as 
the  students  advance  in  their  course. 
There  was,  of  course,  football,  hurling, 
walking,  and  occasionally  an  impromptu 
concert  or  other  entertainment.  When 
this  was  not  enough  to  kill  the  time  a 
little  surreptitious  "  divarsion "  was 
sometimes  organized,  perhaps  by  a  select 
few.  It  might  be  a  quiet  little  game  of 
cards,  with  a  good  smoke,  and  possibly 
an  attempt  at  hilarity  that  was  not  strictly 
ecclesiastical  might  be  resorted  to  in 
defiance  of  all  rules  and  regulations. 

At  the  particular  time  we  are  coming 
to,  an  unusual  tendency  to  innocent 
"  larking "  had  alarmed  the  authorities 
— the  good  Dean  in  particular — and  it  is 
not  improbable  that  the  latter's  nervous- 
ness had  done  something  to  accentuate 
the  evil. 

However  that  may  be,  it  was  the 
evening  of  another  great  inter-divisional 
hurling  match.  Jack  Murphy — now  a 
Rhetorician — was  captain  of  the  junior 
team.  He  had  developed  into  a  splendid 
hurler,  and,  still  in  his  old  place  in  the 
wing  forward,  had  given  the  seniors  a 
downright  hard  fight  for  their  victory. 
He  played  no  longer  side  by  side  with 
Jim  O'Neill,  who  was  now  a  leading  senior, 
but  still  in  the  part  of  the  field  he  had 


96  THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

formerly  held  in  the  junior  team. 
Friends  before  the  match,  and  friends  after 
it,  during  the  play  these  two  contested  every 
inch  of  the  ground,  and  every  hop  of  the 
ball,  in  front  of  the  now  historic  goal- 
posts. But  the  days  when  the  juniors 
could  carry  off  the  laurels  were  gone, 
although  they  were  still  able  to  make  a 
gallant  show.  The  seniors  had  won  with 
a  pretty  small  margin  to  their  credit,  and 
the  hardness  of  the  struggle  made  them 
appreciate  their  victory  very  highly.  But, 
true  Celts  that  they  were,  they  did  not  deny 
the  meed  of  praise  to  the  gallant  amongst 
the  conquered.  They  did  not  conceal 
their  admiration  of  Murphy's  stern  fight 
against  them,  and  when  the  last  whistle 
had  been  sounded  by  Ned  Delaney,  who 
was  acting  as  referee,  and  the  field  was 
won,  they  rushed  to  shake  Jack's  hand 
warmly,  and  congratulate  him  on  his  fine 
performance. 

In  fact,  they  still  considered  that  he  was 
almost  one  of  themselves,  so  they  invited 
him  to  join  the  group  who  intended  to 
make  a  night  of  it  in  honour  of  the  match. 

It  was  understood  by  this  time  that 
O'Neill  would  not  smoke,  but  in  every  other 
respect  they  thought  him  a  good  fellow 
enough,  and  in  any  case  to-day  it  would 
be  impossible  to  omit  him  from  the  com- 
pany. Joe  O'Donnell  was  the  "  head 


AFTER   THREE   YEARS  97 

centre,"  and  he  had  arranged  that  as  it 
was  ^.a.  special  occasion  they  should  be- 
take themselves  to  a  sort  of  garret,  which 
was  over  the  top  corridor.  A  rickety  old 
staircase  led  up  to  it  from  the  end  of 
the  corridor,  and  it  was  used  as  a  store- 
house for  the  College  miscellanies,  including 
a  great  deal  of  rubbish.  It  was,  however, 
in  every  way  a  desirable  rendezvous, 
being  entirely  secluded  from  all  civiliza- 
tion. O'Donnell  had  satisfied  himself  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  a  raid  from  the 
Dean,  who  would  not  be  likely  to  expect 
any  outbreak  on  a  colossal  scale,  though 
he  was  constantly  looking  out  for  minor 
misdemeanours . 

After  the  conspirators  had  been  dis- 
cussing every  incident  in  the  whole  play 
of  the  match,  O'Donnell  said,  "  Let  us 
employ  our  time  better.  If  we  talk  much 
more  about  the  match  we'll  take  the  good 
out  of  it." 

"  Righto  !  "   was  the  chorus. 

"  What  about  the  Dean  ?  "  said  O'Neill. 

"  Oh !  there's  no  fear  of  the  Dean," 
said  Joe.  "  He  has  visitors  in  his  room,  and 
he  won't  stir  out  of  it  for  the  night." 

Somehow  O'Donnell  was  generally  a 
good  judge  of  the  Dean  and  his  move- 
ments, and  on  the  present  occasion  it  was 
taken  for  granted  he  could  not  be  at 
fault. 

8 


98  THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

The  only  thing  now  to  arrange  was  the 
method  of  transporting  themselves  to  the 
forbidden  ground.  This  was  easily  done, 
with  the  result  that  they  left  the  hall 
in  pairs,  and  while  some  took  a  few  turns 
of  the  corridor,  others  went  out  to  the 
fountain  for  a  drink,  all  in  the  most  careless, 
off-hand  manner,  just  to  show  that  nothing 
was  up.  Then,  in  pairs  again,  and  not 
fast  on  each  other's  heels,  they  strolled 
up  quietly  in  the  direction  of  the  garret. 
There  wasn't  a  sound  in  the  top  corridor 
— the  coast  was  perfectly  clear.  One  by 
one  they  slipped  up  the  old  staircase, 
and  settled  themselves  in  all  sorts  of 
improvised  "  chairs  "  round  about. 

"  Were  you  ever  up  here  before,  Jack  ?  " 
said  O'Donnell. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Murphy,  "  nor  did 
I  think  anyone  else  was." 

"  Oh  !  this  is  a  wonderful  country  up 
here,"  said  Muldoon,  "  no  climatic  changes 
nor  anything ;  it's  just  the  same  always  as 
long  as  you  can  fill  your  pipe  and  have 
your  '  stake  '  for  the  game." 

"  But  isn't  it  just  possible  that  the  Dean 
would  come  along  ?  Neddy  is  pretty  sharp, 
and  you  never  could  tell  what  he  might 
do.  How  would  we  escape  then  ?  " 

The  mode  of  procedure  in  the  event  of 
such^an  unlikely  occurrence  had  to  be 
briefly  explained  to  Jack.  One  man  had 


AFTER  THREE  YEARS  99 

to  keep  "  nix  "  always  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  where,  without  being  himself  visible 
from  below  on  account  of  the  comparative 
darkness  that  enveloped  him,  he  could 
have  a  full  view  of  the  corridor.  At  the 
first  sound  from  beneath  he  was  to  satisfy 
himself  as  to  whence  it  proceeded,  and 
were  it  a  false  alarm,  he  was  to  say  so 
immediately,  "  not  to  injure  our  nerves," 
as  Muldoon  declared.  But  should  it 
happen  that  it  was  the  Dean  that  was 
parading  the  corridor,  the  man  on  "  nix  " 
was  to  raise  one  hand  in  a  warning  gesture, 
and  all  were  to  slip  quietly  along  to  the 
extremity  of  the  garret,  and  Brer  Rabbit- 
like,  "  lay  low "  until  the  danger  had 
passed — or,  in  the  utmost  crisis,  to  get 
out  on  the  roof  and  make  their  way  on 
to  the  dormitory,  and  safety. 

They  were  seven  in  all,  and  the  usual 
game  being  three  two's  it  was  immediately 
a  question  of  who  would  keep  "  nix." 

"  Senior es  prior  es,"  said  Jack  Murphy  ; 
"  let  you  six  seniors  play  and  I'll  watch." 

"  Nonsense ! "  said  two  or  three 
voices. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  O'Neill,  "let  you 
play,  Jack,  and  I'll  watch.  I  understand 
how  to  keep  '  nix '  here  better  than  you," 
as  though  Jim  was  the  most  harum-scarum 
person  in  the  whole  College. 

This  argument  was,  however,  convincing, 


100         THE    MAKING    OF    JIM    O'NEILL 

and  Jack  sat  down  to  play  with  the  five 
seniors.  They  "  cast  knaves "  to  select 
partners,  and  whilst  the  first  round  was 
being  dealt  the  tobacco  was  cut  and  the 
pipes  filled. 

"  Quite  sure  the  place  is  quiet  down 
there,  O'Neill !  Give  a  good  look  down 
before  we  light." 

Jim  did  as  requested,  and  assured  them 
that  there  was  no  danger  whatsoever. 

"  Well,  here  goes  then,"  said  Muldoon 
as  he  struck  a  match  and  lit  his  pipe. 
The  others  followed  suit. 

Before  long  they  were  as  deeply  interested 
in  the  game  of  cards  as  they  had  been  in 
the  hurling  match  earlier  in  the  day. 
Again  and  again  O'Neill  warned  them  to 
speak  in  a  lower  tone  and  not  to  laugh 
so  much.  The  effect  of  his  warnings 
generally  lasted  for  only  about  two  minutes 
at  a  time,  and  then  they  were  as  hilarious 
as  ever  again.  Six  healthy  young  men 
pulling  hard  at  six  pipes  filled  with  rather 
strong  tobacco  can  soon  make  a  place 
reek  with  the  fumes  of  the  weed.  O'Neill 
declared  several  times  that  it  was  better 
to  go  away  while  there  was  yet  a  chance, 
as  the  smoke  was  certainly  going  down 
to  the  corridor  below.  They  only  laughed 
at  him.  "  Neddy  is  too  comfortable  to 
budge  this  evening,"  they  all  declared. 

But  the  unexpected  often  happens,  and 


AFTER   THREE   YEARS  101 

before   many   more   minutes    went   by   a 
familiar  step  was  heard  on  the  corridor. 

"  Tis  he,  by  Jove ! "  said  Muldoon,  as 
he  gathered  up  the  cards  and  the  coppers  ; 
"  but  wait  a  minute  O'Neill — no  danger — 
and  see  will  he  look  up.  He  may  suspect 
nothing  at  all." 

O'Neill  kept  an  eye  on  the  corridor 
whilst  his  friends  slipped  along  the  garret. 
Sure  enough  it  was  Neddy  himself. 

The  Dean  paused,  sniffed  the  air,  looked 
up  towards  the  garret,  and  walked  de- 
liberately towards  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

Jim  waited  for  no  more,  but  followed 
his  retreating  companions. 

"  Better  get  on  the  roof,  lads,  and 
make  for  the  dormitory,"  said  O'Donnell, 
when  he  heard  O'Neill's  account  of  the 
Dean's  movements. 

"  By  Jove !  I've  left  my  pipe  on  the 
old  board  !  "  exclaimed  Jack  Murphy,  in 
evident  alarm. 

"  Ah  !  what's  a  pipe  ?  "  said  O'Donnell. 

"  But  my  name  is  on  it — 'twas  a 
present,"  said  Jack.  "  Neddy  will  get  it, 
and  read  my  name  on  it,  and  I'm  done 
for." 

"  You  must  chance  it  now,"  said 
O'Donnell. 

"No,"  said  O'Neill,  "I'll  get  it";  and 
before  Jack  could  interfere  he  had  returned 
to  the  spot.  Yes,  there  was  the  pipe ! 


102         THE   MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

With  one  spring  Jim  reached  it,  snatched 
it  hurriedly  in  his  hand,  and  was  just 
turning  to  make  good  his  escape  again. 
But  he  was  late  !  The  Dean  was  looking 
on  at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

"  Stand,  please,"  said  Father  M'Carthy. 
"  You're  Mr.— O'Neill." 

The  Dean  looked  round  the  garret  and 
saw  that  there  was  nobody  else  visible. 
"  You'll  have  to  answer  for  this,  Mr. 
O'Neill,"  said  he,  "  in  another  place. 
Hullo !  you  have  a  meerschaum  pipe  in 
your  hands.  Hand  it  over,  if  you  please : 
it  is  confiscated." 

For  answer  Jim  deliberately  dropped 
the  pipe,  placed  his  heel  upon  it,  and 
ground  it  into  fragments. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  Dean,  "  you  wish  to  be 
contumacious,  I  see.  As  this  filthy  hole 
is  full  of  smoke  you  were  practically  caught 
red-handed,  and  I  don't  see  that  the  pipe 
makes  much  difference." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  descended 
the  stairs. 

When  the  rumour  of  the  raid  and  the 
catch  had  gone  around  the  house  the 
excitement  was  nothing  less  than  extra- 
ordinary. It  was  the  most  sensational 
raid  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest 
student,  and  it  formed  the  chief  subject 
of  conversation  for  several  days. 

Coming    out    from    the   Theology    class 


AFTER  THREE   YEARS  103 

the  following  day,  Muldoon  and  Joe 
O'Donnell  asked  Jim  O'Neill  to  wait  in 
the  hall  awhile  until  the  other  students 
were  gone  out. 

"Honestly,  O'Neill,"  said  Muldoon, 
"what  did  Neddy  say?" 

"  As  I  told  you — he  said  that  I'd  have 
to  answer  for  it  in  another  place." 

"  But  did  he  say  anything  about  who 
was  with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  that's  all  that's  troubling  you," 
said  Jim,  turning  on  his  heel,  and  leaving 
the  hall  without  another  word. 

"He'll  'let  the  cat  out  of  the>ag,'/' 
said  Muldoon. 

"  He  will,  of  course,"  said  O'Donnell. 

In  due  time  Jim  was  summoned  to 
appear  before  the  Disciplinary  Council. 
He  had  been  in  a  state  of  anxious  ex- 
pectation all  the  week,  and  it  was  really 
a  relief  to  him  when  the  servant  knocked 
at  his  door  on  Friday  evening,  and  told 
him  that  he  was  "  Wanted  in  the  President's 
room,"  for  it  was  there  that  the  meetings 
of  the  Council  were  generally  held.  He 
was  fairly  nervous  when  he  knocked  at 
the  President's  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Father  Nolan. 

In  another  moment  Jim  was  standing 
before  the  dreaded  and  much-talked -of 
"  Council."  At  the  far  end  of  the  room 
sat  the  President,  with  a  huge  pile  of 


104         THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

papers  on  the  desk  before  him ;  the  Vice- 
President,  holding  the  minutes-book  of 
the  Council  on  his  knees,  sat  by  his  side ; 
a  little  further  down  sat  the  Senior  Dean. 
Father  M'Carthy  and  the  Junior  Dean 
sat  just  beside  the  door. 

"  Come  in  a  little  farther,  please,  and 
close  the  door,"  said  the  President. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  O'Neill,"  he 
continued,  "  to  see  you  here  to  answer 
such  a  serious  charge,  or  rather  charges. 
You  were  found  in  the  garret  over  the 
top  corridor — a  forbidden  place." 
'  Yes,  sir." 

"  Can  you  give  any  excuse  or  explana- 
tion of  such  conduct  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

**  You  had  a  pipe  in  your  hand,  and 
the  place  reeked  of  tobacco  smoke.  Were 
you  smoking  ?  " 

Jim  did  not  answer. 

The  President  repeated  the  question, 
and  still  there  was  no  reply.  Jim  was  in 
a  bit  of  a  fix.  He  had  not  been  smoking, 
and  so  he  would  never  admit  the  charge ; 
if  he  denied  it  the  inevitable  question  of 
the  ownership  of  the  pipe  would  arise 
and  he  might  implicate  his  friend,  Jack 
Murphy. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  the  question 
put  to  you  ? "  said  Father  M'Carthy, 
hotly. 


AFTER   THREE   YEARS  105 

But  still  there  was  no  answer. 

The  Council  became  fairly  exasperated 
at  his  refusal  to  answer,  and  gave  him  a 
good  hearty  raking,  but  still  Jim  would 
not  budge  from  his  position. 

"  Withdraw  for  a  moment,  please,"  said 
the  President. 

"  This  is  terrible  that  he  won't  answer," 
said  the  Dean,  when  Jim  had  gone  out. 

"  He  is  a  peculiar  boy,"  said  the 
President.  "  I  think  I  understand  him, 
however.  The  boy  has  a  good  deal  in  him. 
I  suppose  we  must  give  him  a  caveat." 

"  Oh  !  at  least,"  said   Father  M'Carthy. 

The  Council  agreed  to  give  Jim  a 
caveat,  or  solemn  warning. 

"  The  others  deserve  a  caveat,  too," 
said  the  Dean. 

"  Of  course,  but  who  are  they  ?  "  said 
the  President. 

The  Dean  mentioned  the  names  of 
Murphy  and  the  other  five. 

"  They  were  not  caught  by  you,  were 
they  ?  " 

"  No,  but  they  were  there." 

"  Well,  what  evidence  have  you  got 
against  them  ?  " 

"  Evidence  ?  Well,  now — let  me  see — 
it  is  a  little  awkward — well  perhaps  I 
have  not  got  exactly  evidence." 

"  Then  we  cannot  coveni  them."  said 
Father  Nolan. 


106         THE   MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

"  But  you  can  believe  me.  I  know 
beyond  a  shadow  of  doubt  who  were  in 
it.  Don't  press  me  further,  please.  Can 
we  not  stop  them  from  their  Orders  in 
summer  ?  Considering  the  relaxation  of 
discipline  in  the  house  at  present,  I  think 
that  course  is  an  absolute  necessity." 

After  a  prolonged  discussion  it  was 
decided  to  take  the  Dean's  view,  and  to 
stop  all  the  men  from  their  Orders,  and 
the  Dean  was,  of  course,  empowered  to 
let  them  know  of  the  Council's  decision 
in  any  way  he  liked,  in  order  that  it  might 
be  a  warning  to  them. 

"Call  Mr.  O'Neill,  Father  M'Carthy," 
said  the  President. 

The  Dean  opened  the  door  and  called  Jim. 

"  Well,  Mr.  O'Neill,"  said  Father  Nolan, 
"  we  have  decided  to  administer  to  you  a 
caveat.  A  caveat  you  will  understand  is 
to  a  certain  extent  administered  as  a 
punishment,  but  it  has  far  more  the  nature 
of  a  warning.  I  have  only  to  hope  that 
you  will  take  the  warning  in  the  proper 
spirit  and  profit  by  it.  You  may  go  to 
your  room." 

The  dread  ordeal  was  over  ! 

Before  a  week  had  gone  by  Father 
M'Carthy  had  found  an  opportunity  of 
speaking  to  every  one  of  the  other  six, 
and  of  informing  them  of  the  Council's 
decision  in  a  very  significant  manner. 


AFTER   THREE   YEARS  107 

So  the  thing  got  bruited  about  the  house, 
and  it  was  evident  that  more  was  known 
than  had  been  expected.  A  good  deal  of 
excitement  resulted.  On  the  one  hand, 
it  was  certain  that  no  one  had  been  caught 
except  O'Neill ;  on  the  other  hand,  some- 
how all  the  culprits,  including  Murphy, 
were  evidently  known  to  the  authorities. 
There  was  hardly  any  escape  from  a  very 
unpleasant  conclusion.  Some  one  must 
have  been  bearing  tales,  and  rather  naturally 
suspicion  fell  upon  Jim  himself.  He  had 
been  extremely  reticent  with  the  other 
students,  and  had  seemed  to  be  annoyed 
with  them  for  putting  queries  to  him  about 
what  had  transpired  at  the  Council.  Had 
he  been  taken  unawares,  or  was  he  possibly 
vexed  that  being  the  only  member  of  the 
group  who  had  not  smoked,  they  had  all 
scuttled  off  and  left  him  alone  to  "  face 
the  music." 

Never  a  word  of  this  was  breathed  to 
Jim,  but  he  was  not  long  before  he  per- 
fectly realized  the  situation.  He  was  too 
proud  to  tax  them  with  suspecting  him 
of  "  spying" ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was 
most  angry  that  they  should  show  cold- 
ness to  him  without  telling  him  the  reason 
in  a  straight  talk.  Not  merely  O'Donnell, 
but  even  Delaney,  seemed  to  shun  him, 
and  the  more  they  did  so  the  more  he 
showed  his  indignation  against  them. 


108         THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

This  conduct  increased  their  suspicion  to 
the  point  of  a  strong  conviction  that  he 
had  played  them  false. 

One  thing  stung  Jim  more  than  all  the 
rest.  He  had  incurred  the  whole  trouble 
through  anxiety  to  shield  Murphy  as  a 
junior,  and  that  he  should  suspect  him 
was  worse  than  all.  He  determined  to 
have  it  out  with  him  anyhow.  He  was 
therefore  devising  a  means  to  get  a  quiet 
talk  with  his  friend,  when  he  saw  him  come 
boldly  up  and  looking  as  though  he  was 
delighted  to  see  him. 

"  Jack,"  said  O'Neill,  "  I  want  to  ask 
you  a  question.  Have  you  anything 
against  me  ?  I  know  I  can  trust  you 
to  be  straight." 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  whole  lot.  You're  a 
long  sight  too  hoity-toity  with  all  your 
best  friends." 

"  Friends  ? "  said  Jim,  in  a  rather 
sarcastic  tone  of  voice.  "  But  never  mind 
about  my  friends,  I  can  do  without  them, 
and  I  know  perfectly  well  what  they  are 
saying  about  me.  I  only  want  to  know 
about  one  friend,  and  that's  yourself. 
Could  you  be  a  friend  to  a  sneak  ?  " 

"  Now  I  know  what  you  mean,  Jim, 
and  I'll  speak  plain  enough  to  you,  senior 
and  all.  If  I  thought  you  had  spied  to 
the  Council  or  the  Dean,  I  would  never 
speak  to  you  again." 


A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH  109 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Jim,  standing  still  and 
staring  into  Jack's  eyes,  as  though  he 
would  read  his  inmost  soul. 

Jack  blinked  not,  but  returning  a 
steady  gaze,  said,  "Look  here,  O'Neill, 
it  is  this  way.  If  ever  I  suspected  you 
for  a  single  instant  of  being  capable  of 
doing  me  or  any  decent  man  a  low,  dirty, 
cowardly  trick,  may  I  turn  Protestant 
and  die  cursing  the  Pope !  Will  that 
satisfy  you?  " 

"  Yes  it  will,  Jack,  and  it  is  my  turn 
to  beg  your  pardon.  Anyhow  shake  hands, 
and  we  will  burn  this  for  ever." 

"  Amen,"  said  Murphy,  and  they 
separated. 

This  was  some  relief  to  Jim,  but  the 
iron  had  entered  into  his  soul. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH 

FROM  every  part  of  the  diocese,  and  from 
many  parishes  outside  it,  his  "fellow- 
labourers  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord  " 
came  to  Kilthomas  to  be  present  at  the 
funeral  obsequies  of  Father  Tom  Burke, 
a  good,  pious,  homely  priest  of  the  old 
school,  who  was  respected  by  old  and 


110         THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

young,  and  beloved  by  his  fellow-priests. 
All  the  way  from  Glenroe,  a  good  fifteen 
Irish  miles,  Father  Moran  had  driven  in 
his  "  high  car  "  to  the  funeral  of  his  life- 
long friend.  The  Seminary  priests  had 
come  there  by  train,  and  as  Father  Moran 
was  leaving  the  graveside,  the  President 
of  the  Diocesan  College  walked  towards 
him  and  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Oh !  Father  Nolan,"  said  the  parish 
priest  of  Glenroe,  turning  around,  "  how 
are  you  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  Father  Moran,  thanks  ;  and 
so  poor  Father  Tom  is  gone  above." 

"  He  is,  the  poor  man,  God  rest  him ! 
An  honest  man  Tom  was  always,  as  honest 
and  as  true  as  any  man  that  ever  drew 
the  breath  of  life." 

"  So  I  believe.  I  didn't  know  him 
very  well,  and  I  regret  it.  I  believe  he 
was  quite  an  extraordinary  character  in 
ways." 

*'  There  were  great  points  in  Tom  always, 
but  he  was  easy-going,  and  he  was  humble, 
and  'twas  only  a  few  that  knew  his  great- 
ness. And  look,  Father  Nolan,  in  the 
long,  weary  drive  over  here  to-day  'twas 
many  and  many  a  thing  was  running  in 
my  mind  ;  and  I  was  thinking  to  myself 
of  the  men  of  the  old  times,  and  all  their 
great  qualities  with  their  easy-going  ways, 
and  I  was  wondering  were  the  young  men 


A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH  111 

rising  up  anything  like  them  at  all.  You 
have  a  good  way  of  being  able  to  know 
that,  Father  Nolan." 

"  Oh !  yes,  I  think  the  young  men  are 
quite  as  good  in  their  own  way,"  said  the 
President,  "  but  like  everyone  else  they 
have  to  march  with  the  times,  and  so  they 
probably  differ  from  what  we  might  call 
the  '  old  guard  '  in  many  respects.  How- 
ever, I  believe  the  Church  of  the  future 
is  safe  in  the  hands  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Father  Moran,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  had  considerable 
doubts  about  the  point.  "  And,  by  the 
way,"  he  continued,  "  how  is  that  young 
parishioner  of  mine  going  on  up  there — 
that's  James  O'Neill?" 

"  Oh  !  James  is  a  good  fellow." 

"  No  better — and  kind  father  and 
mother  for  him." 

"  But  he  got  into  a  little  row  during 
the  term.  He  was  brought  before  the 
Council  for  having  been  caught  in  a  4  pro- 
hibited place,'  and  under  circumstances 
which  pointed  to  his  having  been  smoking, 
and  we  administered  a  caveat  to  him." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  said  the  parish 
priest,  as  he  looked  his  companion  full 
in  the  face.  "  That's  bad  news  for  me 
to-day." 

"  But  surely,  Father  Moran,  you  wouldn't 


112         THE    MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

take  a  caveat  so  seriously.  He  can  mind 
himself  for  the  future,  and  there  isn't 
much  fear  of  his  being  caught  again. 
And  then,  you  know,  O'Neill  is  not  the 
sort  of  man  that  would  be  terrorized  by 
a  caveat  or  inclined  to  do  anything  rash 
in  consequence  of  it.  Besides,  you  know, 
from  the  moral  aspect " 

"  I  know,  I  know,  but  'twould  break 
his  mother's  heart,  the  poor  woman,  if 
she  hears  it.  She  has  her  heart  set  in  that 
boy,  and  she  isn't  well  at  all  this  while 
back." 

"  But  why  should  she  hear  it  ?  " 

"  That's  very  easily  said ;  but  you 
know  yourself  that  this  kind  of  thing 
always  gets  out ;  it  goes  around  from  one 
to  one,  travelling  a  whole  lot  faster  than 
good  news." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  the  President. 
"  Perhaps  the  best  thing  you  could  do 
would  be  to  have  the  first  of  it  yourself, 
and  to  explain  it  to  her  in  the  proper 
light." 

"  Never  fear  ;  I'll  manage  that  all  right." 

"  I  haven't  a  lot  of  time  to  spare  for 
the  train,"  said  the  President.  "  Good-bye, 
Father  Moran,  and  I'm  very  glad  indeed 
to  see  you  looking  so  well.  My  word  ! 
there's  nothing  like  the  fine  fresh  country 
air  after  all." 

"  Good-bye,  Father  Nolan,  and  good  luck.'' 


A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH  113 

The  parish  priest  had  resolved  to  give 
a  good  sound  raking  to  Jim  himself,  but 
to  put  it,  or  get  it  put,  in  the  best  possible 
light  before  his  people,  especially  his 
mother. 

Kathleen  had  always  found  the 
"  Parochial  House  "  a  bit  dull  and  lonely, 
but  perhaps  her  principal  objection  to  it 
was  that  she  had  not  sufficient  scope  for 
her  activity  there,  for  the  boisterous 
element  in  her  character  had  developed 
into  a  fine,  hardworking,  lively  spirit, 
making  her,  as  Mrs.  O'Neill  often  ex- 
pressed it,  "  the  life  and  sowl  of  the 
place,"  so  that  she  was  delighted  when 
some  time  previous  to  this  it  had  been 
decided  that  she  was  to  take  up  her 
permanent  abode  at  O'Neills'.  She  still, 
of  course,  paid  an  occasional  visit  to  her 
uncle,  and  as  she  was  now  a  rather  re- 
sponsible young  woman  he  sometimes 
snared  a  confidence  with  her. 

One  evening  as  she  returned  from  her 
visit  to  her  uncle  it  was  evident  that  she 
had  something  more  serious  than  usual 
on  her  mind.  He  had  told  her  what  he 
had  heard  about  Jim,  and  had  entrusted 
her  with  the  "  breaking  of  the  news." 
Since  the  first  day  he  had  entered  Bally- 
hynes  she  had  taken  a  deep  interest  in 
Jim's  ecclesiastical  career,  and  she  felt 
deeply  for  him  in  his  present  trouble,  but 
9 


114          THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

she  felt  still  more  for  his~,mother,  to  whom 
she  was  most  strongly  attached.  How- 
ever, an  important  duty  had  been  en- 
trusted to  her,  and  she  was  resolved  to 
perform  it  properly. 

She  brightened  up  into  something  ap- 
proaching her  usual  self  as  she  entered 
the  door  of  the  old  farmhouse. 

"  All  alone,  Mrs.  O'Neill,  saying  your 
beads,  "|jshe  exclaimed  as  she  rushed  in 
towards  the  kitchen  fire  and  shook  the 
old  woman's  hand  warmly. 

"  All  alone,  alannah ;  and  how  is  Father 
Moran  to-day,  the  poor  man  ?  " 

"  His  health  is  keeping  very  well,  Mrs. 
O'Neill,  thanks.  He  thanks  God  that  he 
is  free  of  all  ailments,  but  he  is  hardly 
over  the  effects  of  his  long,  weary  drive 
to  Father  Burke's  funeral.  And  he  told 
me  to  tell  you  he  was  enquiring  for  you, 
Mrs.  O'Neill." 

"  Wisha,  the  poor  man.  He  has  the 
heart  good  any  way.  'Twas  too  far  away 
entirely  for  him  to  drive  off  to  Kilthomas. 
Sit  down,  Kathleen,  won't  you  ?  Ned  is 
down  the  fields,  and  Ellie  is  gone  to  the 
posht,  and  the  young  lads  are^  inside  in 
the  parlour  learnin'  their  catechism  an' 
their  spellin'  for  you  ;  sure  they'd  rather  to 
miss  it  for  the  masther  himself  than  for 
you.  An'  poor  Father  Burke !  I  mind 
him  well  when  he  was  a  curate  here  for 


A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH  115 

a  short  time  long  'go — a  dacent  man. 
I  suppose  there  was  a  power  o'  priests 
at  his  funeral." 

"  Any  amount,  uncle  said." 

"  No  wander  !  " 

"  And  the  priests  from  the  College  were 
all  there  too,  he  said." 

"  Were  they,  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  uncle  was  speaking  to  the 
President,  and  he  was  talking  to  him 
about  Jim." 

Despite  all  her  efforts  Kathleen  could 
not  control  her  emotion,  and  the  old 
woman  immediately  divined  that  there 
was  something  wrong. 

"  I  hope  he  had  no  bad  news  about 
him,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neill,  eagerly. 

"  Oh  !  indeed  no,  Mrs.  O'Neill,  nothing 
bad  at  all,  only  Jim  got  into  a  little 
trouble,  'tis  nothing " 

"  The  craytur." 

"  I  believe  they  caught  him  doing  some- 
thing that  was  against  their  rules,  and 
they  gave  him  a  caution.  Uncle  was 
afraid  you'd  hear  a  wrong  version  of  it 
from  other  people,  and  he  told  me  to  tell 
you  the  whole  truth  about  it." 

Mrs.  O'Neill  was  visibly  affected. 
Kathleen  would  have  given  worlds  not  to 
have  had  that  painful  duty  to  perform, 
but  she  should  go  through  with  it  now 
to  the  end. 


116         THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

"  It  was  up  in  some  part  of  the  house 
where  the  students  were  not  supposed  to 
go  they  caught  him,  and  there  is  some- 
thing about  him  smoking  too.  But  he 
was  not  smoking:  I  know  he  wouldn't 
have  been." 

"  The  craytur !  "  said  the  old  woman 
as  she  rocked  to  and  fro  in  her  chair  and 
toyed  with  her  beads. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  O'Neill,  you  know  as  much 
as  Father  Moran  knows.  And  wait  till 
I  tell  you  the  good  side  of  the  story.  The 
President  gave  great  praise  entirely  to 
Jim,  and  uncle  says  he  won't  think  one 
bit  the  worse  of  him  for  it,  and  that  they 
have  a  very  high  opinion  of  him." 

"  Ah !  but  the  poor  fella  himself — the 
way  he'll  feel  it !  He  takes  things  to  heart 
a  lot  since  he  wint  to  college,  and  I  know 
'tis  a  long  time  since  he  began  to  be 
troubled  in  his  mind  about  whether  he'd 
keep  on  goin'  for  the  priesthood.  The 
craytur !  May  God  direct  him,  an'  His 
Holy  Mother  comfort  him  !  Wisha,  Kath- 
leen, will  you  get  me  a  dhrink,  if  you 
plaze,  I'm  feelin'  very  wake." 

But  Mrs.  O'Neill  took  no  drink.  Before 
Kathleen  had  brought  it  to  her  she  had 
fainted. 

Her  husband  and  daughter  came  back 
soon,  and  Mrs.  O'Neill  was  put  to  bed. 
Her  "  little  wakeness,"  as  old  Ned  called 


A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH  117 

it,  passed  off,  and  none  of  the  family 
thought  it  was  by  any  means  serious. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  Father  Moran  to-night, 
Ned,"  said  she,  when  she  "  came  to.'r 

"  By  all  means,"  said  her  husband, 
*'  sure  the  priest  nor  the  Sacraments  never 
killed  any  wan." 

"  I  wouldn't  ever  doubt  you,  Ned,  for 
the  good  word,"  said  the  sick  woman. 

Kathleen  went  for  her  uncle  and  soon 
the  good  old  priest  was  hearing  Mrs. 
O'Neill's  confession.  He  didn't  think  it 
necessary  to  anoint  her,  and  after  re- 
ceiving showers  of  blessings  from  the  sick 
woman  he  returned  home. 

A  week  went  by  and  still  Mrs.  O'Neill 
was  unable  to  leave  her  bed.  At  the  end 
of  the  week  she  got  another  seizure,  the 
doctor  was  called  in,  and  then  they  all 
realized  the  gravity  of  her  illness. 

"  Watch  her  closely,"  said  the  doctor 
to  Ellie  and  Kathleen,  who  had  followed 
him  out  to  the  yard  to  hear  the  worst, 
"  watch  her  closely.  She's  sinking,  and 
she'll  probably  go  fast." 

"  We'll  send  for  Jim,  of  course,"  said 
Kathleen. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Ellie.  "  But  'tis  late 
to  send  a  telegram  to-night ;  we  can  send 
down  the  boy  to  Kildoran,  and  it  will 
reach  him  the  first  thing  in  the  morning. 
Will  he  catch  the  first  train  ?  " 


118         THE    MAKING   OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

"  Oh  !  you  will  find  he  will  get  here 
sooner  than  you  think." 

"  We  can  remain  up  with  her  at  night 
in  turn,"  said  Kathleen.  "  I'll  remain 
up  the  first  night — to-night.  Now,  won't 
you  let  me,  Ellie,  please  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  but  I'll  remain  up  and  let 
you  go  to  bed  every  second  night." 

"  All  right." 

Anxiously  did  Kathleen  gaze  on  the 
face  of  the  woman  she  loved — the  friend 
of  her  childhood,  her  girlhood  and  her 
dawning  womanhood — as  she  sat  by  her 
bedside  that  night.  Slowly  and  labori- 
ously the  sick  woman  drew  each  breath  ; 
she  dozed  on,  and  on,  until  past  midnight, 
and  then  she  awoke,  and  in  a  low,  weak 
tone  asked  for  a  drink. 

Kathleen  brought  it  to  her  immedia- 
tely. 

"Is  that  you,  Kathleen?"  said  she. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  O'Neill." 

"  God  bless  you,  alannah !  You  were 
always  good.  Tell  me — will  I — will  I — 
see  Jim  ?  " 

"  I  think  Jim  is  coming  home  to-morrow, 
Mrs.  O'Neill." 

"  I  wonder  will  he  come — in  time. 
Listen,  Kathleen,  I  do  be  unaisy  about 
him  the  whole  time.  But  sure  God  is 
good.  I  think  I  will  not  last  so  long  now, 
and  shure  I  wad  like  to  see  the  boy  before 


A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH  119 

I  go,  and  I  think  he  wad  like  it  hissel, 
too.  But  it  is  God  that  knows  best." 

"Oh!"  said  Kathleen,  "it  will  be 
all  right.  I'm  thinkin'  you  are  not  going 
so  quick  as  all  that.  Will  you  not  keep 
quiet  and  rest  yourself  ?  If  ye  get  a 
sleep  it  will  make  ye  feel  a  lot  better." 

The  girl  then  settled  the  poor  old  woman 
in  her  bed,  and  went  off  as  though  to  do 
something.  She  did  not  go  far,  and  was 
delighted  to  see  that  Mrs.  O'Neill  was 
taking  her  advice  and  trying  to  doze  off. 
She  remained  close  at  hand,  and  sat  down 
to  say  her  beads,  and  her  own  head 
began  to  nod.  She  did  not  know  how 
long  she  had  been  half-dozing,  when  she 
was  awakened  with  a  start  hearing  Mrs. 
O'Neill  call  her  name  twice. 

She  hurried  over  and  saw  the  poor 
woman  was  worse.  She  was  going  to 
warn  Ellie,  when  Mrs.  O'Neill  called  her 
back. 

"  Don't  leave  me,  Kathleen,"  she  said 
in  a  weak  voice.  "  I  want  to  say  some- 
thing to  ye  while  I  can.  If  Jim  is  not 
come  in  time,  I  would  have  ye  know 
what  I  have  been  thinking  of.  It  came 
to  me  like  in  my  sleep,  and  I  saw  it  all 
clearer  than  I  ever  did  before,  and  when 
I  am  gone  ye  must  tell  the  craytur  what 
I  do  be  saying.  Ye  will  remember  when 
he  was  a  young  fella  after  he  was  a  year 


120         THE    MAKING    OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

or  so  at  college,  he  was  thinking  that  he 
would  like  to  go  foreign,  so  as  to  be  of 
more  use  to  our  Lord  in  praching  to  them 
haythen,  God  help  'em.  And  I — like  the 
rest  of  ye — we  all  objected  to  him,  and 
even  Father  Moran,  the  good  soul,  we 
did  our  best  to  get  it  out  of  his  head. 
Now  the  eraytur,"  the  dying  woman 
stopped  to  take  breath,  and  then  con- 
tinued, "  the  poor  eraytur  do  be  troubled 
about  whether  he  ought  to  go  on  an'  be 
a  priest  or  not.  He  do  be  afraid  he  has 
no  vocation,  Kathleen ;  but  'tis  only  other 
things  that  do  be  troublin'  him,  an'  puttin' 
him  astray  in  his  mind.  Tell  him,  Kath- 
leen, that  his  mother,  an'  she  dyin' — an 
I  always  hear  the  ouP  people  say  that  a 
person  is  very  knowledgeable  then — said 
that  he  had,  and  that  thim  crosses  and 
troubles  are  put  in  his  way  to  make  him 
a  better  priest  afterwards.  Tell  him  to 
let  nothing  discourage  him,  but  to  go  on 
an'  work  for  God,  Kathleen  !  " 

'  Yes,  Mrs.  O'Neill." 

"  I  don't  think  Jim  would  refuse  me  a 
request." 

"I  don't  think  he  would." 

"  Tell  him  that  'tis  my  greatest  wish, 
now  that  I  be  dyin',  that  he'd  go  to  the 
foreign  mission,  an'  prache  to  the  poor 
haythens,  God  help  'em.  Tell  him  that 
his  mother  thought  that  was  the  wan 


A  MOTHERS'  LAST  WISH  121 

thing  he  was  put  in  the  world  for,  and 
to  think  about  it  sayriously.  Won't  you, 
Kathleen  ?  And  you  will  do  your  best  to 
get  him  to  keep  at  his  vocation  ?  " 

"  I  will,  Mrs.  O'Neill." 

"  May  God  bless  you  and  reward  you 
in  this  life  an'  in  the  nexht !  "  Her  voice 
was  getting  weaker.  But  she  added, 
"  An'  you'll  be  good  to  the  young  lads, 
an'  keep  'em  at  their  catechism  an'  their 
books,  and  consolin'  to  Ellie,  and  kind 
to  the  poor  old  man  himself,  God  help 
him  now  when  I'm  gone!" 

She  pressed  Kathleen's  hand  warmly  as 
the  latter  wiped  off  the  perspiration  from 
the  fevered  brow,  and  then  she  dozed  off 
again.  The  time  dragged  slowly  on ;  the 
nightly  vigil  beside  the  bedside  of  a  dying 
friend  is  one  of  the  loneliest  things  on 
earth. 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the 
old  woman  got  a  change,  and  Kathleen 
thought  the  end  was  coming.  She  called 
the  rest  of  the  family,  and  they  began 
to  recite  the  prayers  for  the  dying.  Still 
she  seemed  as  though  she  could  not  die: 
her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  door.  After 
some  hours,  when  the  morning  was  well 
advanced,  her  breathing  became  heavy, 
and  all  wondered  would  she  live  for  her 
dear  boy  to  see  her  alive. 

The  sound  of  a  bicycle  was  heard,  and 


122         THE   MAKING    OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

Jim  appeared.  He  knelt  close  to  his 
mother's  bed,  and  it  was  evident  she  knew 
it  was  he,  for  her  eyes  went  up  towards 
heaven,  and  her  hand  moved  as  though 
trying  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  over 
his  head. 

And  so  Mrs.  O'Neill  went  to  her  great 
reward. 


It  was  a  lonesome  scene,  that  old  farm- 
house at  Glenroe,  on  the  evening  after 
Mrs.  O'Neill's  funeral.  Poor  old  Ned  was 
black  and  silent  as  he  gazed  out  on  the 
lonely  vista  that  now  stretched  before 
him  and  the  grave.  EIHe  and  "  the 
childre  "  were  inconsolable,  and  Jim  was 
in  a  state  of  darkest  melancholy.  Kath- 
leen, though  she  felt  the  good  woman's 
loss  nearly  as  much  as  anyone,  was  still 
able  to  "  keep  up  a  good  face  "  better  than 
the  rest,  and  devoted  all  her  energy  to 
seeing  after  the  whole  family,  and  keeping 
the  place  in  order. 

About  nine  o'clock,  when  all  the  rest, 
weary  and  worn  out  from  sorrow  and 
want  of  sleep,  had  gone  to  bed,  Jim  and 
Kathleen  sat  at  the  parlour  fire. 

"  She  was  a  good  woman,  Kathleen," 
said  he. 

"  She  was,  Jim.  As  your  father  says, 
she  was  the  best  that  ever  lived." 


A  MOTHER'S  LAST  WISH  123 

"  What'll  we  do  at  all  after  her  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  know,  Jim,  we  must  all 
bear  our  crosses  in  life.  'Tis  very  hard, 
I  know,  but  it  will  make  the  reward  all 
the  greater." 

"  Kathleen  ?  " 

"Yes,  Jim." 

"  I'm  in  great  trouble  entirely ;  every- 
thing is  going  against  me." 

"  Nonsense,  Jim.  Uncle  told  me  all 
about  that  little  row  you  got  into;  he 
heard  it  from  the  President  at  a  funeral. 
But  sure  that's  nothing  at  all." 

"  Ah,  sure  you  don't  understand  about 
it.  How  could  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  won't  you  tell  me  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  only  tell  you  this,  it  is  a  great 
deal  more  than  you  think." 

"  But  you  are  not  thinking  of  giving 
up?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you  yet,  but  can't  you 
pray  for  me  ?  " 

Kathleen  saw  that  the  time  was  not 
yet  opportune  for  the  delivery  of  the 
dying  mother's  message.  Jim  was  too 
unhappy  now  ;  things  would  come  right, 
she  thought,  in  God's  good  time. 

So  Jim  O'Neill  returned  to  Ballyhynes. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   ROYAL  ROAD 

"  WELCOME  back,  Jim,"  said  Delaney  to 
O'Neill  on  the  evening  of  his  return  to 
Ballyhynes  after  his  mother's  funeral. 
"  I  was  very  sorry  that  I  did  not  see  you 
before  you  went  home  to  sympathize  with 
you,  but  I  need  hardly  assure  you  of  my 
sympathy." 

"  No,    indeed,  Ned." 

"  And  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  we  have 
bad  news  here  also.  You  remember  that 
Muldoon  was  knocked  up  this  while  back 
with  a  little  cold  as  we  thought.  Well  it 
turned  that  he  had  a  bad  attack  of  pneu- 
monia, and  the  doctor  says  his  condition 
is  very  critical  to-day." 

"  Is  that  a  fact,  Ned  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  unfortunately." 

"  Poor  Muldoon !  I  hope  he'll  pull 
through  it  all  right.  It  would  be  terrible 
if  anything  happened  to  him." 

"  It  would  indeed.  But  with  the  help 
of  God  his  sound  constitution  and  good 
spirits  will  bring  him  through  it  all  right." 

But  it  was  not  to  be.  In  a  few  days' 
time  Muldoon  was  no  more. 

The  death  of  so  popular  a  student,  as 
might  be  expected,  caused  quite  a  stir 

124 


THE  EOYAL  ROAD  125 

at  Ballyhynes.  On  the  day  his  remains 
were  removed  to  the  little  cemetery  in 
the  College  grounds,  but  at  some  distance 
from  the  house,  no  funeral  was  ever  more 
impressive. 

"  It  is  strange,  Jim,"  said  Delaney  to 
O'Neill,  as  they  took  up  their  places  in 
the  procession,  "  that  you  should  come 
straight  from  the  presence  of  death  at 
home  to  the  shadow  of  death  once  again." 
"  It  is  strange,  indeed,"  said  Jim,  "  and 
yet  it  seems  natural  enough  to  me." 

"  Poor   Muldoon !     His    people   will   be 
broken-hearted  ;  they  were  all  very  fond 
of  him.    I  know  them,  so  I  must  speak  to 
them    after    the    ceremonies,    and    you'd 
better    have   an   eye    out    for   a    partner 
coming  back.     O'Donnell  knows  them  also, 
so  you  can  come  back  with  Murphy." 
"All  right,"  said  Jim. 
As  the  white-robed  students   and    pro- 
fessors   (sprinkled    here    and    there    with 
sombrely  dressed  friends  of  the  deceased) 
chanted  with  solemn  and  beautiful  effect 
the  Miserere  and  Benedictus  the  spectacle 
was  a  moving  one.     On  many  an  eye  a 
tear  glistened,  and  if  one  were  to  stand 
near  enough  to  some  of  the  students  he 
would  not  fail  to  notice  many  a  quivering 
voice.     At   last   the   ceremony  was   over, 
and   the  students  prepared  to  return  to 
the  College. 


126         THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

"  Looking  for  a  partner,  Jack  ?  "  said 
O'Neill,  as  he  approached  Murphy. 

"  Yes,  Jim ;  O'Donnell  knows  some  of 
poor  Muldoon's  friends,  and  he's  remaining 
to  speak  to  them." 

"  So  does  Delaney." 

The  students  filed  back  as  they  had  come 
out,  in  pah's. 

"  It  is  awfully  sad  about  Muldoon." 

"It  is  dreadful,"  said  Jim;  "ye'llhave 
no  one  to  play  the  concertina  now." 

"  No,  indeed,  or  to  make  us  all  laugh 
often  when  a  laugh  would  do  us  good. 
But  with  all  his  fun  and  drolleries  wasn't 
the  poor  fellow  very  pious  and  good  ? 
Wouldn't  he  have  made  a  great  priest  ?  " 

"  He  would,  indeed,"  said  Jim,  "  for 
he  was  very  kind,  and  he  had  a  way  with 
him  that  would  gain  everyone's  heart." 

"  We're  losing  another  of  our  old  friends, 
too,  I  think,"  said  Jack. 

"  What  ?  " 

"  I  think  O'Donnell  is  not  coming  back 
any  more.  An  uncle  of  his  has  just  died 
in  Canada,  leaving  him  an  interest  in  a 
large  timber  business  with  saw-mills,  which 
require  his  personal  supervision.  Joe  says 
he  will  have  to  go  over  and  see  about  it 
without  much  delay." 

"  But  won't  he  come  back  to  college  ? 
Of  course  he  will !  " 

"No,  Jim;  he  told  me  himself  that  he 


THE    ROYAL    ROAD  127 

hopes  to  be  a  rich  man,  and  to  settle  down 
in  Canada  to  enjoy  his  good  fortune.  I 
don't  think  the  fellows  will  be  greatly 
surprised." 

"  But,  good  Lord !  hadn't  the  man  a 
vocation  ?  What  can  he  be  thinking  of  ? 
Look  here,  Jack,  wouldn't  you  rather  be 
Muldoon  ?  " 

"  But  you  see,  Jim,  I  knew  O'Donnell 
better  than  you  did,  and  poor  Muldoon 
was  quite  a  different  sort,  for  all  his  funny 
ways." 

"  Haven't  I  known  O'Donnell  ever  since 
the  day  we  both  came  here  ?  I  have 
always  looked  on  him  as  certain  to  go 
on  and  to  succeed,  without  much  difficulty 
either.  After  all,  what  does  he  want  with 
the  money  ?  " 

"  I  agree  with  you;"  said  Jack,  "but  I 
suppose  he  knows  best  himself." 

No  more  was  said  about  it  then,  as  they 
soon  reached  the  College.  But  the  news 
about  O'Donnell  soon  got  talked  all  over 
the  house.  Very  many  were  the  opinions 
expressed  on  the  subject,  as  it  was  a 
sort  of  nine  days'  wonder,  all  the  more 
because  it  came  when  the  minds  of  the 
boys  were  stirred  by  Muldoon's  unex- 
pected death.  Jim  never  spoke  at  all 
about  it,  even  to  O'Donnell,  for  it  troubled 
him  more  than  he  could  say.  He  had 
only  buried  his  mother  when  he  came 


128         THE    MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

back  to  find  there  would  be  a  double  gap 
in  the  ranks  of  his  companions,  and  from 
very  different  causes. 

If  he  had  not  been  already  seriously 
upset  regarding  his  own  prospects,  it 
would  not  have  been  so  bad,  but  as  it 
was  he  found  himself  extremely  discon- 
certed by  what  he  considered  the  strange 
conduct  of  his  quondam  friend  and  ally. 
It  was  now  quite  evident  that  Joe  could 
never  have  had  any  real  vocation  to  the 
priesthood,  or  else  that  a  vocation  was 
not  after  all  so  serious  a  thing.  It  was 
unfortunate  that  Jim  argued  directly  from 
his  friend  to  himself,  with  the  result  that 
his  own  misgivings  became  deeper  and 
more  melancholy  even  than  they  had 
been  previously. 

The  above  events  had  happened  towards 
the  end  of  the  college  year,  so  that  it  was 
not  long  before  Jim  found  himself  again 
at  Glenroe.  Kathleen  noticed  that  he  was 
no  brighter,  and  that  he  appeared  to  take 
very  little  interest  in  anything  that  was 
going  on.  She  feared  that  his  mother's 
dying  words  when  told  to  him  would 
perhaps  increase  the  pain  he  evidently 
felt.  But  she  had  a  great  duty  to  per- 
form, a  great  message  to  deliver,  and  she 
was  resolved  to  carry  out  her  instructions 
to  the  very  letter. 


THE   ROYAL   ROAD  129 

Ellie  was  busy  around  the  house,  Conn 
and  Willie  had  gone  with  the  pony  to  the 
forge,  and  Kathleen  had  set  the  youngsters 
to  their  lessons. 

"  Come  out  to  the  fields  for  a  walk, 
Jim.  The  fine  fresh  home  air  will  do  you 
good,  and  you  seem  to  want  it.  Are  you 
not  well  ?  " 

"  I'm  quite  well,  Kathleen."  He  heaved 
a  deep  sigh. 

"  Stir  yourself  up,  man ;  you're  too 
young  yet  to  be  getting  the  ways  of  an 
old  parish  priest  with  any  amount  to 
trouble  him,  not  like  you." 

"  And  you  think  I  have  no  troubles, 
Kathleen  ?  " 

They  were  walking  down  the  well  field. 

"  Surely  'tis  not  the  old  question  about 
the  vocation  again,  Jim  ?  " 

"  It  is,  Kathleen." 

"  I  thought  you'd  have  got  over  that 
by  now.  Why  in  the  world  do  you  think 
you  haven't  a  vocation  ?  " 

"  Why,  Kathleen,  don't  you  see  how 
badly  I'm  getting  along ;  don't  you  see 
the  trouble " 

"  Yes,  you  got  a  caveat.  Many  a  good 
man  did.  Are  you  afraid  to  live  it  down  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  quite  that,  Kathleen.  I 
didn't  tell  you  about  O'Donnell.  O'Donnell 
is  not  coming  back  any  more.  Imagine 
that !  He  had  always  ten  times  more  signs 

10 


130         THE   MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

of  a  vocation  that  I  had,  and  he  always 
got  on  splendidly  with  everyone,  and  lately 
an  uncle  of  his  died  in  Canada  leaving  him 
a  prosperous  business,  and  he's  giving  up 
the  Church  and  going  over  to  it." 

"  Just  what  I'd  expect  from  O'Donnell," 
said  she,  quietly. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Jim,  "  from 
O'Donnell  ?  I  always  thought  he  was 
as  sure  as  the  sun." 

"I  didn't.     But  let  him  pass." 

"Why  didn't   you?" 

"  Oh !  Why  do  people  credit  women 
with  the  monopoly  of  curiosity  ?  And 
without  making  contrast  between  the 
sexes,  Jim,  let  me  tell  you  this :  don't 
expect  to  get  the  reasons  of  things  from 
a  woman,  but  you  can  be  pretty  sure 
that  she  is  right,  I  won't  say  in  her  judg- 
ments, but  in  her  'first  impressions.'  So, 
in  the  name  of  God,  no  more  of  this 
O'Donnell  business.  He's  left,  and  the 
Church  will  probably  get  along  all  right 
without  him.  But  is  there  anything  else 
troubling  you  ?  " 

"There  is,  Kathleen." 

"  Out  with  it,  Jim  O'Neill." 

"Well,  'tis  like  this.  The  authorities 
found  out  the  names  of  the  others  who 
were  in  the  garret,  and  who  were  smoking 
when  I  was  caught,  and  all  the  students 
took  it  for  granted  that  I  had  been  spying." 


THE    ROYAL   ROAD  131 

"  Unjustly,  of  course,  and  they're  giving 
you  a  hard  time  in  consequence,  and 
you're  afraid  to  face  the  music." 

"  It  isn't  afraid  I  am,  Kathleen,  but 
'tis  a  bad  sign,  and  aren't  they  the  same 
sort  of  men  I'd  have  to  live  and  work  with 
always,  and  how  could  I  ever  get  on  with 
them  when  I  can't  do  so  now  ?  " 

It  was  even  yet  too  soon  to  deliver  the 
great  message. 


For  many  days  afterwards  Jim  wore 
the  same  weary  and  haggard  look,  but 
Kathleen  never  broached  the  subject  of 
his  vocation  during  the  time.  During 
these  days  a  little  incident,  which  in  itself 
indeed  was  quite  trivial,  occurred  which 
served  to  intensify  Jim's  ill-humour. 

Going  suddenly  into  one  of  the  out- 
houses one  evening  he  came  upon  his 
brother  Conn,  regaling  himself  with  a  pipe 
full  of  strong  smelling  "  bar  plug." 

"  Oh !  shame,  Conn,"  exclaimed  his 
brother,  "  smoking  !  You're  far  too  young 
to  smoke,  and  besides  'tis  such  a  horrible 
practice." 

Conn  struck  a  decidedly  comical  attitude, 
and  looked  his  elder  brother  full  in  the 
face. 

"  Faith  an',"  said  he,  "  if  we  can  bleeve 
all  we  hear,  it  wouldn't  be  apasht  your- 


132         THE   MAKING    OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

self  to  like  a  little  pull  or  two  up  in  the 
garret  in  the  College." 

Jim  turned  on  his  heel  without  a  word. 
He  had  been  cut  to  the  quick. 

He  was  beginning  now  to  make  up  his 
mind  that  he  would  not  return  to  Bally- 
hynes  any  more,  and  though  he  did  not 
care  very  much  what  he  would  turn  to, 
he  was  practical  enough  to  know  he  would 
have  to  face  the  question.  A  farmer  he 
would  not  be  for  several  reasons  ;  he  had 
"  got  his  chance,"  and  it  would  not  be 
fair  to  turn  back  now  and  usurp  what 
should  be  given,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
events,  to  the  younger  boys ;  besides, 
neither  his  past  training  nor  his  ambitions 
made  him  think  favourably  of  a  farmer's 
life.  But  he  should  do  something,  and 
he  was  resolved  to  choose  something  that 
would  not  demand  the  outlay  of  initial 
expenses  on  the  part  of  his  father. 

His  uncle  at  Knocktoran,  a  sturdy 
farmer  and  a  man  of  brains,  was  chairman 
of  the  Committee  of  the  local  Co-operative 
Dairy  Society,  and  it  was  generally  thought 
that  a  managership  of  one  of  the  auxiliary 
creameries  would  be  soon  at  his  disposal. 
Jim  thought  in  any  case  he  might  as  well 
visit  his  uncle,  and  spend  a  large  part  of 
the  vacation  with  him,  for  he  was  always 
very  welcome  at  Knocktoran,  so  that  he 
would  be  nearer  at  hand  to  see  how  matters 


THE   ROYAL   ROAD  133 

stood,  and  what  were  his  prospects,  with- 
out arousing  the  least  suspicion  that  he 
had  any  notion  of  discontinuing  his  pre- 
paration for  the  priesthood.  He  remained 
there  for  a  full  six  weeks,  and  came  in 
very  "  handy  "  for  the  hay-saving,  during 
which  time  he  paid  many  visits  to  the 
creameries,  and  gained  some  knowledge  of 
the  general  work  and  the  conditions  that 
prevailed  in  them.  He  heard  his  uncle 
say  that  the  committee  were  on  the  look- 
out for  a  good  young  chap  for  the  position 
of  assistant-manager  in  September,  and 
asked  Jim  if  he  had  any  friend  that  he 
wished  to  recommend. 

Jim  remarked  that  he  would  think  it 
over,  and  inwardly  hoped  that  before  the 
time  his  wavering  would  be  ended,  and  he 
could  offer  to  take  the  post  himself.  No 
doubt  it  would  be  but  a  humdrum  sort  of 
affair,  still  it  would  at  least  be  free  from 
all  mental  torment.  One  thing  he  would 
always  rejoice  at,  and  that  was  that  his 
mother  had  died  without  any  fear  that  her 
desires  to  have  him  a  priest  would  be 
frustrated.  If  his  father  were  disappointed, 
well  he  would  survive,  and  so  would  Ellie. 
No  doubt  there  was  Kathleen,  but  what 
had  she  to  say  to  his  vocation  ? 

Kathleen  indeed  had  always  been  help- 
ful, so  bright  and  cheery,  so  full  of  sense 
and  kind  sympathy ;  and  in  the  future — 

10* 


134         THE   MAKING    OF   JIM   O'NEILL 

well  the  future  would  take  care  of  itself. 
In  any  case,  ought  she  not  to  be  glad  if  he 
determined  to  remain  at  home  ?  He 
would  return  to  Glenroe,  and  would  have 
one  final  talk  with  his  friend.  She  would 
be  sure  to  give  him  a  few  kind  words, 
and  help  him  over  the  last  stile.  Surely 
he  did  not  dread  to  tell  her  the  truth  ? 


Once  more  it  was  in  the  fields  they  met. 
It  was  again  September,  and  again  the 
autumn  tints  told  their  tale  of  summer 
glories  fading  into  the  past.  But  the 
birds  were  still  singing  joyfully,  and  the 
air  was  heavy  with  odours  of  meadow- 
sweet and  honeysuckle. 

Jim  appeared  now  in  better  humour. 
**  Kathleen,"  he  said,  "  I  think  my  troubles 
are  coming  to  an  end." 

*'  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  and  when  you 
return  to  Ballyhynes  next  week  I  hope 
you  will  settle  down  happily  to  the  couple 
of  short  years  you  have  still  to  study." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall  go  back.  I  am 
thinking  of  asking  my  uncle  to  appoint 
me  to  the  vacant  position  at  Knocktoran." 

"  Well,  Jim,  do  as  you  like,  but  don't 
talk  to  me  about  the  creameries." 

"Is  it  not  the  best  thing  for  me  ?  " 

"Don't  ask  me." 

"  Why  not  ?    Kathleen,  I  have  always 


THE   ROYAL   ROAD  185 

found  you  a  true  friend,  and  I  want  you 
to  be  more  than  ever  now.  You  may 
have  thought  I  had  a  vocation,  but  I 
cannot  struggle  against  my  fate  for  ever." 

"  God  knows  I  would  not  ask  you  to  go 
on  if  you  were  really  sure  that  you  have 
no  vocation.  But  are  you  sure  ?  I  cannot 
see  that  you  are." 

He  spoke  not,  and  now  she  felt  was 
the  moment  for  giving  him  his  mother's 
final  message.  Mrs.  O'Neill  had  thought 
that  he  had  a  real  call  for  the  foreign 
mission,  and  how  best  could  she  introduce 
that  particular  topic  ? 

So  she  hesitated,  and  Jim  saved  her 
from  the  dilemma  by  saying  suddenly,  and 
with  passion,  "  Kathleen,  don't  be  hard 
on  me.  Do  you  think  God  created  us  to 
be  miserable  ?  In  my  present  state  of 
mind  I  cannot  believe  that  He  will  make 
me  leave  everything — Ireland,  Glenroe, 
and — yourself  !  " 

The  girl  rose.  She  had  turned  ashen 
pale  and  faced  Jim. 

"  What  about  me  ?  "  she  said. 

Jim  hung  his  head  as  though  in  deep 
thought.  He  looked  at  her  and  sighed. 
She  was  now  scarlet,  and  her  eyes  flashed 
fire.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  though 
her  emotion  would  master  her ;  but,  when 
she  spoke,  her  voice  sounded  calm  enough. 

"  I   see   it  all   now,  Jim.     Oh,   what   a 


186         THE   MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

couple  of  fools  we  both  are  !  But  do  you 
really  think  I  would  have  anything  to 
say  to  you  ?  You'd  be  a  real  spoiled 
priest  then,  and  no  mistake,  and,  what  is 
more,  you  want  to  make  me  the  spoiler  !  " 

It  was  now  Jim's  turn  to  flare  up. 

"  That  is  not  like  you,  Kathleen.  Don't 
call  me  names,  and  you  know  it  is  unjust !  " 

"  Well,  Jim,  will  you  listen  to  me  ? 
I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

"  If  you  will  not  leave  me,  I  will  do 
anything  you  like." 

"  Jim,  this  is  the  last  time  you  will 
ever  set  eyes  on  me — make  yourself  certain 
of  that !  If  you  leave  college,  as  you  say 
you  will,  I  shall  leave  Glenroe — aye,  and 
Ireland  too.  You  never  knew  me  to  break 
my  word,  did  you  ?  But  I  must  give  you 
your  mother's  dying  message  first." 

"  My  mother's  dying  message  !  What 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

She  told  him  all,  as  gently  as  possible, 
and  having  described  the  mother's  last 
words,  she  said  but  little.  One  thing  she 
clearly  pointed  out,  and  that  was  that 
everything  depended  on  his  own  will.  If 
he  chose  to  accept  the  will  of  God  there 
was  nothing  to  prevent  him,  but  he  must 
be  a  man,  and  not  trifle  with  grace. 

"  Kathleen,"  said  he,  when  she  had 
done ;  "  how  you  remind  me  of  what  the 
President  told  me  long,  long  ago !  Do 


THE   ROYAL   ROAD  187 

you  know  you  have  used  almost  his 
identical  words  ?  And  this  must  be  what 
he  meant  when  he  told  me  to  travel  by 
the  Royal  Road." 

"And  will  you?" 

"Yes,  with  the  help  of  God.  I  see 
now  how  it  is  going  to  end.  I  shall  have 
to  give  up  everything — home,  friends, 
Ireland,  to  say  nothing  of  yourself  !  Oh  ! 
how  miserable  I  should  have  been  if  it  were 
not  for  your  message  and  your  advice.  God 
has  made  use  of  you,  Kathleen,  to  save 
me  from  myself.  You  may  anyhow  take 
it  as  settled  I  shall  return  to  Ballyhynes." 

"  Well  done ! "  said  Kathleen,  and 
smilingly  added,  "Don't  feel  too  much 
humiliated ;  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  a 
man  was  prevented  by  a  woman  from 
making  a  fool  of  himself." 


They  were  walking  leisurely  to  the  house 
when  they  saw  little  Willie  running  down 
against  them. 

"  Come  up,  come  up,  quick,"  exclaimed 
Willie.  "  There's  a  very  nice  boy  above, 
after  walking  up  from  the  train,  and  he 
wants  to  see  Jim.  I  think  he's  a  student." 

They  had  much  speculation  as  to  the 
identity  of  the  visitor,  but  there  was  a 
surprise,  an^agreeable  surprise,  in  store 
for  them. 


138         THE   MAKING    OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

"  Hello  !  Jack,  who  in  the  world  would 
have  expected  you  all  the  way  from 
County  .  Welcome  ;  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Splendid,  thanks.  I  came  all  the  way 
because  I  had  such  news  for  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

Jack  Murphy,  for  it  was  he,  handed 
Jim  a  letter. 

Jack  had  been  introduced  all  round, 
and  while  Kathleen  and  Ellie  kept  him 
in  conversation,  Jim  read  the  letter,  which 
was  in  O'DonnelFs  familiar  handwriting. 
It  ran  : — 

"  DEAR  OLD  JACK, — This  will  be  my 
last  evening  spent  on  Irish  soil,  and  I  feel 
miserable  at  thinking  I  shall  never  see  you 
again,  nor  any  of  the  '  Old  Gang.'  I  write 
to  say  '  good-bye,'  and  I  want  to  tell  you 
something,  or  I  know  I  shall  never  have 
any  peace  of  mind.  It  was  I  stopped 
you  from  your  Orders,  by  letting  out  to  the 
Dean  a  whole  lot.  I  was  afraid  of  the 
business,  and  was  trying  to  pacify  him. 
He  seemed  deadly  in  earnest.  I  never  saw 
him  like  it  before,  and  I  thought  he  knew 
more  about  it  than  he  did.  He  told  me  he 
was  going  to  make  use  of  the  information 
I  gave  him,  so  I  was  driven  to  my  wit's  end. 
All  of  them  put  the  blame  on  poor  O'Neill, 
and  I  said  nothing,  for  I  was  mean  enough 
to  wish  to  see  you  fall  out  with  him. 


THE   ROYAL   ROAD  139 

However,  now  I  am  glad  you  didn't !  I 
must  say  the  whole  thing  has  made  it 
easier  for  me  to  give  up,  and  take  my  un- 
expected good  luck.  If  you  want  to  tell 
Jim  you  can  (say  I  am  awfully  sorry), 
but  try  and  keep  it  as  dark  as  possible. 
Again  '  good-bye  ' — I  suppose  for  ever  ! 
"  Your  fond  friend, 

"JOE. 

"  P.S. — Don't  be  too  hard  on  the  Dean 
about  what  I  have  told  you.  Poor  Neddy  t 
It  was  really  not  his  fault,  I  threw  any 
amount  of  dust  in  his  eyes,  and  made 
him  think  he  was  '  playing  the  game.' 

"J.  O'D." 

What  a  change  that  letter  had  made  in 
Jim's  outlook  !  He  handed  it  deliberately 
to  Kathleen,  and  there  was  delight  written 
in  her  every  feature  as  she  returned  it. 

"We'll  take  a  little  look  around  the 

place  till  you  see  what  County is  like 

while  the  tea  is  being  got  ready,"  said 
Jim. 

"  Jack,"  said  he,  when  they  got  out- 
side, "  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  ?  There 
isn't  another  fellow  in  the  world  would 
have  come  so  far  with  it." 

"  Ah !  never  mind  that.  Isn't  it  a 
pleasure  to  me  to  see  this  grand  country 
here  around  ?  " 

"  Well,  Jack,  look  here,  I  do  not  wonder 


140         THE   MAKING   OF   JIM    O'NEILL 

so  much  now  at  O'Donnell's  chucking  the 
Church.  Do  you?" 

"  I  never  was  greatly  surprised  at  it." 

"  He  never  seemed  to  have  anything 
to  trouble  him.  I  always  thought  he  had 
not  a  single  doubt  about  his  vocation. 
Whereas,  there  was  I " 

"  You  don't  tell  me  you  have  had  doubts 
yourself  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  haven't  I.  But,  thank  God,  they 
are  all  cleared  away." 

"  Was  it  long  since  ?  " 

"  About  five  minutes  before  you  came. 
But  there  is  Kathleen  calling  us." 

It  was  to  say  that  tea  was  waiting. 


THE   END 


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